The Guardian, the Ward and the Convict
by shedoc
Summary: I'd rather spend the Summer with Snape." Harry's personal hells are swapped - summer with the Dursley's may not be much fun but surely summer with Snape will be worse? AU end of second book--- NOT SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer – insert something witty that expresses my lack of ownership of these characters etc…

Authors notes – based on a "what if Severus Snape took a personal interest in Harry at the end of his second year? Or was manipulated into it somehow…"

AU for the end of the Chamber of Secrets and onwards, though I will keep in some of the major events of the books. Basically I'm gonna pick and choose…

Warnings – Harry/Ron pairing (pre-slash). Harry/Severus mentor relationship…

**The Guardian, the Ward and the Convict**

**Severus**

Severus Snape, last of the Princes, youngest wizard to ever gain the title Master of Potions in the Northern Hemisphere, Head of Slytherin and Potions Professor in _the_ foremost school in England, swept through the lower corridors of Hogwarts mentally calculating the minutes until the students were bundled off back to mummy and daddy tomorrow for the summer.

As he glided past the small corridor leading to the teacher's private gardens, a jealously guarded secret from the little pests lest they invade and destroy it, a faint whisper of voices travelled to his ears, and he stopped to listen discretely. Old habits died hard, and this one had stood him in good stead during the War.

"… at least there are no more classes," the voice resolved itself into the young Weasley boy, sounding earnest and concerned. Severus restrained a sigh, because where Weasley was, Granger and Potter were sure to follow. The three were inseparable, despite his best efforts. The trouble they caused each year would only grow in severity as they aged, and he'd been all for resorting Granger into Ravenclaw, and seeing if the infernal Hat would resort Potter as well. It was in the bylaws that the teachers could do so if a student seemed to be misplaced, and Granger definitely was. He'd been argued down on that one though.

"Honestly Ron," the misplaced know it all scolded, "Our lessons are important."

"He's in no shape to go to class, Hermione," Weasley retorted, and from the awkward silence it appeared that the Granger girl concurred.

"Well at least you'll be going home soon," she sounded as if she wasn't sure that was a good thing, and the snort from Weasley, unattractive and uncouth as it was, confirmed Snape's surmise on that front.

"I'd rather spend the summer with Snape," Potter said softly, and Severus felt himself flush in anger. The implication that he was an unattractive and feeble last resort to some horrible fate was unavoidable, but hard on the heels of that came another thought. Why would Potter, spoilt and feted at home, rather spend the summer with the strictest and least friendly teacher in his programme?

As he was musing this point the Gryffindors came into sight. Usually they walked with Hermione in the middle of the boys, a protective formation that Severus didn't think they were aware of. Sinistra, in one of her rare fits of sentimentality, had announced how quaint it was that the two boys were caring for their Muggle born friend. Hooch had predicted darkly that they'd come to blows over the girl at some point, but Severus disagreed. He'd seen the way Weasley looked at Potter. One of these years those two would end up in bed together, and Salazar help the rest of the school with the inevitable fall out.

Today the trio of friends had changed their usual pattern. Potter was between Weasley and Granger, a position that served to highlight his lack of stature. It also highlighted his pallor, and his lack of weight. Severus spent as little time as possible thinking about his enemy's son, but faced with the boy in this unguarded moment he could see that something was not right. Potter usually radiated power and arrogance, though the power was probably because the brat had never learned to properly shield his magical core. Now he seemed small and ill, oddly frail between his two friends, and Granger was only just released from the hospital wing herself. Sending him back to the Muggles in this state would not endear the school to them, and Severus sighed mentally. Once again it was up to him to ensure the useless brat took proper care of himself.

"Potter!" a small part of him meanly enjoyed the jump that all three teens gave, "What were you doing down that corridor?"

If the trio knew of the teacher's garden then he'd have to ensure that the place was properly warded. He had no faith in their discretion and certainly didn't want to see the place ruined by curious or malicious students.

"Taking a shortcut, sir," Weasley spoke up, one hand steadying Potter protectively. In his heart of hearts Severus had to admit that he didn't like that the students were afraid of him as a person. A certain amount of fear of a teacher was a healthy thing, but it could be tiresome on occasion. Potter paled even further in fright, something that he'd _never_ done before. The brat was ill, seriously so if Snape barking a question at him was enough to get him to pale and shiver in shock. Before Severus could take points from Potter for allowing his friend to answer for him the brat made a confused sound, his eyes slid out of focus and he slipped gracelessly to the ground despite Weasley's best efforts. The redhead ended up on the ground too, partially trapped under the dead weight of the Boy Who Fainted and Granger gasped, throwing herself to the floor too, hands reaching out to support Potter as best she could.

"Move back, Miss Granger," Severus barked, now truly concerned. He had only heard the barest of rumours about the monster that Potter had slaughtered, and it seemed that only the Headmaster had the full picture. Severus had been foolish enough to assume the interfering old bat was watching Potter closely, an assumption that had left him dealing with a fainting Gryffindor, bracketed by glaring housemates.

A wave of his wand showed the boy was ill, fevered and dangerously weak. He should never have been out of bed so soon, and as Poppy wouldn't have allowed him to wander around in this condition the Head of Slytherin could only assume that she hadn't seen the brat after his encounter in the Chamber of Secrets. There was nothing to be done but to pick the child up, magic was contra-indicated at this time, and ignore the bleating of his friends as Severus headed for the Hospital Wing. As he strode through the halls he sent a Patronus message to the Headmaster, demanding his attendance in the Hospital Wing at once.

He wanted a full explanation from the Headmaster of the nature of Potter's injuries, and a full accounting of the events in Slytherin's Chamber. He also wanted Potter's remark explained properly to him. Why would the Boy Who Lived prefer to spend the summer with his Potions Master, someone who had never coddled or even spoken nicely to him instead of a family that loved him?

0o0o0o0

A few sharp words dismissed the bleating second years, and then Severus was alone, watching closely as Poppy ran scan after ritual over Potter, trying to stabilise him. Albus arrived after only a few moments, the ridiculous Fawkes perched on his shoulder. The Phoenix fluttered over to nestle into the pillow beside Potter's pale face and Severus used the distraction to isolate Albus with a sharp privacy spell, which was to give Poppy peace as she worked if anyone called him on it, before stepping in to interrogate the most infuriating man alive.

It took surprisingly little pressure to get Albus to admit that Potter had faced and slain a Basilisk in Slytherins Chamber, and that the thing had bitten the boy.

"He should never have survived such a bite!" Severus gasped, his mind whirling with shock, "The poison…"

"Was negated by Fawkes tears," Albus said soothingly, "He cried over the wound, and Harry was fine. Besides, I suspect that the Basilisk was so old that its poison was very weak."

"Albus," Severus gritted impatiently, "In most snakes that would be true, but in a Basilisk it is not. As you well know I have made a study of various snakes and their venom. Believe me when I tell you that a Basilisk bite is only survivable for more than a few minutes if a fully grown man is bitten close to the cursed things hatching! A bite from a Basilisk as old as the one in Slytherins Chamber would have killed a grown man in rude health in mere seconds. A child the size of Potter should have died before the fang even left his flesh! Even a scratch would be instantly fatal!"

"I… the fang struck his bone…" Albus murmured, and pulled his hands out of his sleeves. In one of them he held a silver box, which when opened revealed a curved fang, the blood on it at least an inch deep. Potters blood, Severus realised, marking the depth of the wound to his arm when the serpent bit him in its death throes.

"And you were going to send him back to the Muggles?" Severus breathed, his mind whirling and his careful control completely undone, "A child so magical that he could stave off death for minutes at a time, a child so ill that a mere question could make him faint? When I came upon him, he was telling Weasley and Granger that he would rather spend the summer with me than return to those Muggles."

"He did?" Albus frowned, looking over at the Matron and the Phoenix, the thin, small form of the Boy Who Lived barely a lump in the bed, "He asked me to remain here for the summer too…"

Uneasy with the knowledge that he had gained, and wrong footed by the break in his control, Severus had no way to turn down the old coot's next request. Before he knew what had hit him, he was in charge of Potter for at least the next few weeks of summer while Albus did some careful research of his own. As a palliative to the situation, Albus suggested that the slain Basilisk be harvested for potions ingredients, something that the Master in Severus was eager to obtain. It would also allow him to look around the Chamber that the Founder of his House had created. Salazar Slytherin had been known for his dabbling in a wide range of arts, and not all of his journals had been accounted for. Unfortunately many had been destroyed by misguided do-gooders, and with the Chamber inaccessible for so long…

As a reward for burdening himself with the son of James Potter, it was one guaranteed to appeal to Severus, and he consented with only a small show of reluctance. Poppy chose to summon their attention just then and he graciously allowed Albus to dismantle his privacy spell and condescended to listen to the Matron's waffling about stress and other such maladies, all of which could be cured by a good long rest. Albus announced that Potter was to remain at Hogwarts for the next few weeks under Severus' supervision, and Severus scowled through the ensuing lecture on the proper care and feeding of twelve-year-old boys. Poppy was of the idea that Potter was somehow 'delicate', something that Severus resolved to mention to the boy when he was conscious, looking forward to his reaction.

He spent the evening in his quarters, contemplating the coming weeks. If Potter thought that he was going to loll about uselessly for the entire time, he'd have to think again. Severus saw no reason that the boy shouldn't start on his homework with immediate effect, and once he was through the two week period of rest that Poppy insisted he have before commencing any sort of activity – such as broom flight in her opinion, or harvesting the serpent in the Chamber in his – there would be plenty of base potions to brew that Potter could chop ingredients for. Despite his constant criticisms, Severus was well aware that Potter was probably one of the best in the entire castle at preparing a potion, though his brewing methods were not up to the same standard. By the end of summer that would change.

He was still ruminating on the best course of study for the Brat Who Lived to Burden Unsuspecting Potions Masters when the students were turned out into the awaiting carriages and the gruesome thestrals that pulled them. Severus had been able to see them as a student, and had yet to become inured to their leathery wings and hollow appearance. He stood with the rest of his colleagues, nodding to the occasional seventh year graduate, refraining from the more sentimental waves and calls for a bright future that _some_ of his colleagues indulged in. Argus Filch, the squib caretaker stood to one side, counting the students carefully, and when the final carriage refused to roll away from the steps, it was Filch who instantly knew why.

"There's two missing," he hissed at Severus. For some reason that Severus could never quite fathom, Filch seemed to feel some kind of kinship with the Head of Slytherin. The man made Severus' skin crawl.

You didn't need to be in Ravenclaw to guess which two were missing, or why. Minerva had of course informed the remaining two thirds of the Golden Trio that their companion would not be taking the train home, and as he stomped towards the Hospital Wing, Severus was bitterly regretting the fact that term was over and he couldn't deduct the appropriate points.

Sure enough, Weasley and Granger were hovering over Potter, looking as if someone was about to storm the hospital wing and hex the brat. At his entrance Granger jumped and looked at her watch.

"Oh no! Ron, the train! We're late!" she gasped and got up, leaning over to kiss Potter's temple and smooth his hair. The dark haired teen was barely conscious, though he leaned into the touch readily enough. Evidently he was still exhausted from the effort of negating the fatal bite he'd sustained, and therefore probably not truly conscious of his surroundings or even what day it was. Weasley stood as well, and when she was clear of their friend leaned down and grasped a slender shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I'll owl, mate, as often as I can," the low words were rough with some unnamed sentiment, and Severus' eyes narrowed in interest when Potter actually managed to respond to the words with a soft sound, forcing his eyes further open.

"Ron, come _on_," Granger urged and skittered past Severus without a word, Weasley in reluctant pursuit. He could hear them clattering down the stairs and was more than content to let them go, choosing instead to observe his unwitting charge for the summer. Potter was asleep once more, or unconscious, it amounted to the same thing, and unaware of the scrutiny.

Making a mental note to ensure the brat ate properly to replace some of the body mass that he appeared to be missing – perhaps as a result of his magic's strenuous efforts – Severus left for the dungeons to properly organise a sensible timetable for the boy.

0o0o0o0


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry**

Harry wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up in the care of Professor Snape for the foreseeable future, and wasn't exactly certain that he'd prefer to be in Hogwarts under those circumstances. He vaguely recalled saying something along the lines of preferring to spend the summer with Snape than the Dursley's, and he had a notion that Snape had somehow heard him say that, but how he went from comparing personal nightmares to exchanging them was completely beyond him. He'd been feeling pretty rough, and the Dursley's idea of care and comfort was to hose him off, literally on several occasions, when he was too sick to care for himself and then punish him for it when he was better.

Being in Snape's sole care was a daunting prospect, especially as he still felt pretty rough. Normally Madame Pomfrey was able to make him feel completely better in the space of a night, but this time he'd barely been conscious to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and he'd gone straight back to sleep after they left despite the fact that Snape was standing right there glaring at him; something that Harry was sure he'd be paying for at a later date. Snape was a strict teacher, he didn't like Harry any more than the Dursley's did, and Harry had no idea what the mans Rules were. Sure, in class time the Rules were easy to discern and conform with, but out of classes they were extremely flexible and Harry always seemed to come down on the wrong side of them.

The problem wasn't so much that he was staying with Snape as that he wasn't staying with the Dursley's. As little as they loved him, Harry at least knew exactly where he stood. The Rules were the Rules, and even when they changed without notice he could usually fake it well enough to get by until he caught up. He mostly knew what was expected in every situation, he usually knew how to lessen or avoid punishment, and what was expected of him in his pain. He knew how to hide, when to duck and when to stoically bear it. Snape was not above cuffing a student that was misbehaving, and given that he also had access to magic, and all sorts of spells…

Harry would have to learn quickly if he wanted to survive his time here this summer. The older man was very thin, which meant that he didn't consider food a priority, which meant that Harry would be very hungry this summer if he didn't get all of the work that Snape was likely to heap upon him finished. He'd been hungry plenty of times before, but a book he'd found in the library of his old primary school had said that the less food a body has the less it grows. Harry was already the smallest in his year and the lightest of them all too. Even the good food at Hogwarts couldn't completely overcome ten years of … lack was the nicest way he could put it. The fact that he went back to that lack in the summer didn't help, and if he missed too many more meals he'd be permanently shorter than everyone else.

When he next woke it was early afternoon, and Harry got up at once, horrified that he'd spent the day asleep when Snape would have been expecting him. Bad enough that he'd gone to sleep repeatedly on Hermione and Ron when they'd come to say goodbye, without keeping Snape waiting. He found his uniform in the bedside cabinet and got dressed quickly, made the bed again and tucked the pyjamas under the pillow in lieu of knowing where they actually went. Snape would likely be in the dungeons and Harry headed towards them at a scurry, steeling himself for a right telling off.

As luck would have it he ran into his Professor in the foyer as the man crossed from the Great Hall. From the noises in the Great Hall the teachers were finishing lunch, and Harry did his best not to think about food. His stomach was a little iffy at the moment, and he didn't want to disgrace himself in front of the Head of Slytherin.

"Potter! Finished your beauty sleep?" Snape asked sarcastically, and Harry nodded, eyes down as was expected at home when he was being told off.

"I'm sorry Professor," using a title rather than a name was also expected of him, and when he didn't get hexed Harry figured that this Rule was at least similar.

"I hope you don't expect to spend the entire holiday lollygagging around the castle, Potter," Snape informed him darkly, "You'll be usefully occupied while I am burdened with your care. As our school Matron is worried that one as delicate as you should gain adequate rest, we'll start out easily. All holiday homework is to be completed by the end of next week. You will report your progress to me before dinner every evening. I will meet you here. You will also give me your wand – you are not to tax your strength with magic unless I am directly supervising you. As this includes flying I will snap your broom should you so much as mount it."

"Yes Professor," Harry agreed, blushing furiously scarlet at the term 'delicate' as he handed his wand over, handle first. How could Pomfrey say something like that in front of others? She'd said it to him once, while he was waking up after the fiasco with the Philosophers Stone, and he'd been so mortified she'd never mentioned it again. It wasn't his fault he didn't get to eat a lot! It wasn't his fault he was short either.

"Any questions?" Snape asked impatiently when the silence had dragged on long enough to make Harry squirm. Harry risked glancing up, returning his eyes to his Professor's middle when he realised that Snape was watching him very closely.

"Will I stay in the Tower this summer?" Harry forced himself to ask the question clearly and keep his voice respectful. He didn't want to assume that the Tower would remain open for him alone, because that meant he'd be a long way away from Snape's supervision. He didn't want to insult Snape by implying that the man wouldn't offer to host Harry himself, and he certainly didn't want to seem like he was eager to be away from Snape's supervision. Without his wand he'd still be able to move around the castle adequately, though some of the shortcuts he was used to using wouldn't respond unless you magicked them open.

"Frankly Potter I don't care where you sleep," Snape snarled, sounding insulted anyway. His hand gestured roughly behind Harry, and it was all the teen could do not to flinch, "The Tower will not be open, and I frankly do not want you in my rooms either. I believe there's space in the attics. You can see about the arrangements yourself, boy."

"Yes Professor," Harry said to the man's back, wondering if he'd managed to imply that he didn't want to be sleeping near Snape or something, which he didn't. Admitting that was probably a breach of the Rules, though, and guaranteed to annoy Snape either way. He watched the man stride back into his dungeons, and turned to look in the direction that Snape had gestured. As he watched a narrow wooden door appeared in the stonework, and Harry smiled at it. He loved the way the castle could read what her inhabitants needed and supply it. He was convinced that the stairs favoured certain people or circumstances, but he couldn't quite convince Ron and Hermione that Hogwarts was aware of the people who called her home.

Behind the door were three rough steps, a landing with a second door, and then two more steps. He opened the door at the top of the fifth step and entered what appeared to be an attic. The room was round, and the view showed that he was quite high up on the roof, possibly in one of the smaller towers that sprouted off the main spires. He glanced back at the five shallow steps he'd climbed from the foyer and grinned again.

Harry went back to the landing and discovered that the second door led into a bathroom. The fittings were old and worn and tarnished but more than adequate for a single teen to use, and included an enormous free standing bath and shower arrangement. The tub had clawed feet and was chipped along one edge, but otherwise it looked like a brilliant place to soak, and the showerhead was a little crooked, but provided more than enough water when he tested the taps. There was a basin and mirror and a loo behind a screen. There were a few narrow windows set up high in the ceiling, which was full of exposed beams. Harry wiped his wet hands on his now damp robe and headed back into the main room he'd first seen.

This appeared to be a storage room for things that had been damaged. The furniture was usually missing important parts, like legs, tops or backs, and the books and soft furnishings were all either singed or water damaged. There were a fair few stained items as well, including a huge couch sticking out from one wall. It was covered with a dust sheet, and when Harry lifted the sheet cautiously to peer underneath he discovered a stain that covered most of the couch in garish ink; a closer examination proved it to be the sort that Lockhart had favoured. The stain was unsightly in the extreme, which was probably why it was in the attic. When Harry sat on the couch though, he discovered it was the most comfortable thing he'd ever encountered, and when he lay down it was more than big enough to serve as a bed.

The place was fairly dusty, but there was a blanket draped over a chest that was so tattered that Harry had no compunction about tearing it into dusters and getting started on cleaning the place up. He opened each chest of drawers and trunk that he came to; discovering a variety of dented and damaged objects as well as more books than even Hermione could read. They were all in terrible condition though, which would probably incense his book-loving friend. It looked like someone had been collecting all of the textbooks that students had destroyed – either on purpose or by accident – over the years and storing them in here. Most of them were illegible, and he didn't think there was a single one that had all of its pages, or if it did it was missing its cover.

Behind the couch there was a large collection of trunks, and from them Harry selected the least faded, stained or moth-eaten blankets and quilts. He also scored a very comfortable cushion to serve as a pillow, and with his haul he covered the stained couch, converting it into a comfortable nest to sleep in.

There was a desk lying on its side under the smaller window, the one with the view of the hills behind the school. Harry used the burnt, stained, singed and moth eaten books (some of which had multiple combinations of damage) to replace the missing leg. There were in fact so many books that he used them to replace the missing legs of an armchair as well; fortunately the legs were missing from diagonal corners. He found that the larger window, with a view of the lake and Forbidden forest, wouldn't stay open unless it was propped open, and used yet another set of books for that. Hedwig came to find him, and he set her perch up near the larger window, where she settled with a happy hoot.

Just as Harry was finishing up the last of his dusting, pleased that the room had cleaned up so easily and also happy that he'd have the quirky space to himself for as long as he was at the school, his own trunk popped into place at the foot of his new couch-turned-bed. He was startled, but not overly worried. Hogwarts and magic were synonymous after all, and it made sense to him that someone knew when he was ready to start arranging his own things.

The Dursley hand-me-downs were in bad shape, and Harry sighed at the thought of staying in uniform all summer. True, the uniform would at least fit him, and Snape would probably be happier to see him in uniform than in the oversized rags that Aunt Petunia gave him, but sometimes Harry wished he had nice clothes like Ron's. A tray popped up on the newly upright desk, and Harry fell to hungrily, sitting on the large trunk and cushion that were doing duty as a desk chair. There was a note on the tray from Snape, to the effect that he would expect to see Harry promptly ten minutes before dinner tomorrow, and that the man had arranged for his meals to be delivered in this fashion for the length of his tenure in at the school. There was another note from the Matron, warning him to come and see her or Snape the minute he felt unwell, which he tucked away as a matter of course.

Finished with his tray of sandwiches, Harry went for a bath, intending to change into pyjamas and finish setting up his desk before he went to bed. He spent the time soaking and wondering how he'd tell the time without a clock, but that problem was solved when he went back into his room and found an old brass windup clock sitting on the trunk that was doubling as his nightstand. Its quiet ticking was a nice background noise, and Harry set his new/old desk up carefully, laying things out just so for the homework blitz that he was to commence tomorrow.

He didn't have any candles, which meant that when the sun went down at nine he went to bed. The couch was an incredibly comfortable bed, and the quilts he'd found were just right to combat the slight breeze that came through the larger window.

He fell asleep to the ticking of his new clock.

0o0o0o0

The days settled into a comforting routine. Harry woke at half six every morning and got up to have his breakfast and get dressed. He then took a short walk around the grounds, ducking back inside before the teachers were up for their breakfast at seven thirty. There weren't many of them around, and from the sound of the comings and goings in the foyer, Harry had the feeling that various tradesmen and visitors were also in the castle. He stayed out of everyone's way, although he wasn't above listening at the door to the foyer now and then, especially if there seemed to be more noise than usual.

Harry's homework was coming on nicely. He'd decided to complete it alphabetically, and was finding that the required work was easier to complete on a full stomach without painful distractions. Hedwig was also very happy to be free to come and go. She'd delivered letters to Ron and Hermione, reassuring them that Harry was fine and staying in a good place, and Ron had sent Errol to Harry twice so far. Harry had thought it best not to mention that he was still at school or that Professor Snape was supervising him, which had made his initial letters fairly brief. Hermione was off travelling this summer, which left Ron to correspond with, though that wouldn't be for much longer.

Mr Weasley had won some sort of Lottery, and the family were celebrating their good fortune with a trip to Egypt to visit Ron's eldest brother. Ron had a new wand as well, and as Errol was far too old to travel from England to Egypt his latest letter had been a curious combination of excitement at the immanent trip and worry that Harry would be out of his reach for the next few weeks. Harry appreciated the sentiment, it was nice to know someone cared, but didn't want to spoil his friend's holiday.

Harry was in the middle of writing a reassuring and congratulatory letter to his friend when the little brass clock jangled briefly. It was in the habit of doing that when it thought he needed to be reminded of something, and when Harry glanced over he realised he was supposed to be meeting Snape in the next two minutes. He put the quill down carefully and capped his ink bottle before clambering off his makeshift chair and heading for the stairs, brushing at his school robes as he went. The slightly musty smell in the tower had faded after five days of having the window open, and Harry had come to really appreciate the isolation. He was his own boss at the moment, though he was sure that once the two weeks of enforced rest was up Snape would have a list of chores a mile long for Harry to complete.

He was not much farther forward in establishing Snape's Rules. The classroom ones still seemed to apply, and Timely Obedience was a given, but beyond that Harry had no idea what would be his best bet to keep the man happy. It bothered him more than he cared to admit. For all his outward shows of bravado, Harry really just wanted a quiet life, which meant Keeping Snape Happy.

With an inward sigh, Harry pushed open the door to the rest of the castle and squared his shoulders for the next ten tense minutes.

0o0o0o0


	3. Chapter 3

**Snape**

Snape stepped smartly down from the moving staircase, mulling over the shocking facts that he had just heard. In the space of three hours he'd learned, once again, that there was very little in the world that was not possible. He'd discovered that Azkaban was not as impenetrable as the average witch and wizard believed, and that school boy rivalries did not fade once said rival was properly locked up for a decade or so. He'd learned that his mentor was far more devious than even Snape, the Master Spy had suspected, and that despite his protests to the contrary he was capable of feeling concern for the brats he taught, even Potter.

Sirius Black, the bane of his school life, and the godfather of the hapless Boy Who Lived had this night accomplished something thought to be impossible and escaped from the Dementors at Azkaban. According to a visibly shaken Minister Fudge, Black had been coherent throughout his imprisonment, and had only recently asked for a copy of Fudge's paper when the Minister had toured the prison in a publicity stunt. With Black on the loose, it was almost a certainty that the convict would be headed for Potter, which meant that the brat was to stay at Hogwarts for the remainder of the term. Snape's supervision of him was to continue while Minerva and Albus went Black hunting. Any argument that he was better suited to helping capture the convict instead of his two much older colleagues would not have been well accepted, especially as Minerva was more than capable of hexing his bollocks off just to make a point. She may come across as all prim and proper, but underneath that school-marmish exterior was a dirty fighter who pulled no punches.

Severus would never have admitted it aloud, but he was becoming interested in Potter and his reactions. The boy was positively meek, something Severus had put down to a lack of his usual audience and support structure. However, his suspicious nature had been worrying away at Potter's initial assertion that he'd rather stay with Snape than his relatives, and he'd experimented very carefully with the boy's reactions in their evening meetings.

For example, Potter took name calling and general derision in his stride. In fact he seemed to expect it, and accept it as his lot, an attitude that was completely at odds with the brash persona of the Boy Who Lived. Another odd reaction was that any mention of his fame would see a flare of resentment, quickly buried beneath the resigned exterior that Potter now exhibited. He reacted especially badly to being called 'Boy', and a sudden increase in volume as well as a sharp hand gesture would garner a small flinch before the boy steadied himself into acceptance.

These were all markers of someone who experienced physical and verbal abuse on a regular basis at home.

Severus had also cast several 'diagnostic' spells over the boy when they met in the evenings, on the excuse that Madam Pomfrey had instructed him to monitor the child's delicate health. Potter always blushed fiercely when called such, and part of Severus still found the reaction highly entertaining. The spells had revealed long term malnutrition, and several old injuries, mainly broken bones, that had been healed by the boys own magic. In addition to this, the child's immune system was weakened, partly by fighting off the Basilisk poison, but also from the constant strain of maintaining Potter's health with precious little food to do so. Potter was continuing to appear pale and frail, which did not bode well for Severus' planned trip to Salazar's Chamber at the end of the week.

There were several potions that could be used to boost the boys system and as he was to continue to be burdened with the child's care, Severus made a mental note to ensure that the brat started taking them. He would bring them along to the evening meeting and ensure that they were taken promptly. The House Elves assured him that Potter was eating three times a day, and that they were sending healthy meals to the boy, with only a small serving of ice-cream for pudding instead of the lavish menus that they had first proposed. Severus had quite the time arguing them down to basic nutrition when he'd enlisted their aid in feeding Potter, certain that his charge would be unable to tolerate the richer foods being proposed. Upon reflection he'd realised that Potter avoided the richer dishes served to the students as well, though he certainly ate larger amounts than his size suggested.

Severus drew himself out of his musings as he reached the small door that Potter used to reach the foyer every evening. The house elves had insisted that the boy was sleeping in the attic, as per 'Master Snape's' orders, though how he could be when the door clearly led to a nearby room was beyond Severus. He had never entered the teen's summer accommodation before, being not particularly eager to see the teenage squalor that Potter had doubtless reduced the rooms to. He had forbidden the elves to pick up after the boy, knowing that with the teen being the only representative of his age group in the castle, the elves would particularly dote on him. The fewer inhabitants the castle had, the more the elves focused on those around them.

Making a mental note to ensure that there were protective wards installed on the outer door, Severus pushed it open and ascended the five shallow steps that led to Potter's room. Upon opening the second door he realised at once from the view that Potter was indeed sleeping in the attic as he'd insisted on that first afternoon. The castle had seen fit to ensure that the brat was not overly taxed by stretching her inner dimensions considerably; a talent that he was well aware of. She had done so on more than one occasion when he himself had needed the aide of the Hospital Wing, or the privacy of his quarters so badly that propriety had come close to breaking.

Potter was sleeping on the most comfortable couch in the castle, which had formerly resided in the staff room. The distinctive shape was immediately recognisable, and Severus smirked as he recalled Lockhart's impromptu display of his defence skills when the staff had realised that his inks were charmed to be permanent and resistant to all cleaning spells and potions. They'd had to draw up a timetable in the staffroom for time spent on that couch, and Severus had bitterly resented its loss. Potter appeared to appreciate it now, if the nest of old damaged bedding and discarded cushions was anything to go by. The boy seemed impossibly young in his slumber and Severus hesitated to wake him. As the brats temporary care taker, it was his responsibility to ensure that Potter fully comprehended the danger that his godfather represented, or so Albus insisted.

Severus allowed the brat to sleep a little longer as his curiosity overcame his disinterest. Potter had repaired several items of broken furniture by making use of the damaged and ruined books stored in this attic, and clearly had taken to using the abandoned trunks to make up any shortfalls in furniture as well. The boys own trunk was open at the foot of his bed, and Severus could see several uniforms in there, as well as some extremely large Muggle clothes.

A closer examination of them showed them to be many sizes too large for Potter, and with no residual magic on them Severus had to assume these rags were their original size and shape. They were definitely not suitable for a boy Potter's size and shape; the child's uniforms were still in almost pristine condition despite being worn for a year or more, therefore it had not been Potter that got the oversized rags into such a deplorable condition.

"P'Fessor?" the boy in his nest mumbled, stirring a little. Snape turned his head and looked at the teen, deducing from the sleepy motions and barely coherent expression that Potter was still more asleep than awake. Snape knew that in this state the boy would be very vulnerable to carefully couched questions, and modulated his tone accordingly, sending out a mild Legilimancy probe to ensure that the sleepy mind before him didn't wake too quickly. He had a strong feeling that Potter would strenuously resist any attempt at extracting this information when he was fully awake, and the situation with the Boy Who Lived's relatives was beginning to gnaw at Severus' overdeveloped sense of curiosity.

"Whose clothes are these?" Severus murmured, and Potter blinked, rubbing his cheek against the velvet cushion serving as a pillow. Vague shame and resignation wisped through the drowsy mind that Snape was touching oh so lightly.

"Mine, sir," the childlike tone was clearer, a response to the almost hypnotic murmur that Severus was using.

"Whose clothes were they first?" the wording was carefully chosen to avoid sounding accusatory. That would wake the brat at once as his own defences kicked in.

"Dudley's sir."

"Could they afford to buy you new clothes?" a gently curious tone that almost hurt to use, but better than the surprise that wanted to be expressed.

"Yes sir," the last uttered around a yawn, which warned him that the boy was about to fall back to sleep, despite the conversation. Sleep was much more preferable to the boy in front of him, a place to flee from the ever increasing shame and hurt the questions were now invoking.

"Why didn't they?" the green eyes were already drooping closed, so Severus wasn't really expecting a response. It wasn't even likely that Potter would remember this conversation when he woke, which was how Severus preferred it. If they couldn't remember telling you, you could pass the information on without concern.

"'M a freak."

The words hung in the air, even as Potter sighed and slipped back into slumber, cuddling into his cushion with a blissful expression, the link that Snape had formed sliding into nothingness.

Any other teen of his status would have bitterly protested being made to sleep in an attic full of damaged things on a stained couch. Draco Malfoy would never have entered the attic in the first place, demanding a more fitting suite of rooms. Potter seemed positively delighted to be camping in the schools attic. Then again, if his relatives regularly used that word in connection to the boy, perhaps this was not something that Potter would feel unusual.

Severus dropped the rags back into the open trunk and slipped from the room, fuming quietly. He headed straight back for the Headmaster's office, determined to find out once and for all what his employer knew about the family of the Boy Who Lived and their interactions with him.

0o0o0o0

"Dizzy!" Severus snapped impatiently as he descended the Headmaster's stairs for the second time that evening. If it was possible to know less than you had at the beginning of a day, then today Severus had achieved that goal. He was sure that Albus knew _something_ more than he was letting on, and that knowledge probably pointed directly to some form of abuse of the Potter boy, but as to what the exact knowledge was, or even what form the abuse took, Severus was still in the dark. He may prefer to stand in the shadows and observe, but he did not appreciate being kept in the dark by anyone.

The elf that most often attended to Severus' rooms and office popped into being beside him, already at a full run to keep pace with his long strides. The diminutive being was one of the few members of its species that Severus could tolerate, mainly because it had learned the fine art of being quiet and paying careful attention to details.

"Yes Master Snape?" it piped, its bare feet slapping against the stone floor.

"In the morning you are to go to Diagon Alley and purchase five sets of summer weight robes, and five of winter, suitable for a boy of thirteen to wear casually and still be presentable. No bright colours or garish trim, no decorative stitching. The robes will be _plain_, understood?" Severus slowed his pace slightly, wanting the elf to pay attention to his words, not to its own labouring breaths.

"Plain summer and winter robes for a thirteen year old master," Dizzy parroted back obediently, and Severus nodded curtly, pleased at the accurate summation.

"You're to have them charged to Potter's vault," he added, "Here is the key."

He'd taken that from the boy's trunk; mildly shocked at the complete lack of security the boy showed when it came to safeguarding his finances. A small voice reminded Severus that most Muggle raised students didn't understand the power of a vault key, but he dismissed that out of hand, making a mental note to ensure that Potter's lax ways were corrected at once. As he was currently acting as the boy's supervisor, the elf at his side would accept the key with equanimity, seeing him as having a right to organise the brat's finances and wardrobe.

"Before you go to Diagon Alley, you are to take Potter his breakfast and inform him personally that he is not to leave his rooms at all today, under pain of punishment. Tell him that I will come to see him when I have finished my own errands, and that he is to remain confined to his room until I personally tell him otherwise."

"I understand, Master Snape," Dizzy nodded and when he waved a hand in dismissal the elf popped away, doubtless thankful it would be allowed to catch its breath. As for him he continued the depth of the castle, crossing the foyer in long strides and stepping out into the rosy dawn, crossing the front lawn in the direction of the school gates. With the school empty for the summer the wards had been placed on a higher footing, which meant that he had an hours walk to reach the apparation point, the rising sun his only companion.

All Heads of House had access to the student records, which meant that he had Potter's address at hand. If he was unable to get the answers he required from the Headmaster, then he would collect them first hand with the Muggles. As he had no doubt that Potter's appalling manners were a direct result of the Muggles training, he spent some of the walk deciding on the quickest way to get the Muggles to co-operate with him short of using the Imperio spell.

As Head of House, he had access to all the student's summer addresses, and he had made a point to locate Potter's home on the argument that the boy was a trouble maker and most likely to need a teacher to assist him during the summer break. The Wards on Privet Drive prevented anyone from apparating directly to Potter's residence, but he had identified a suitable arrival point on his initial visit and appeared there now as the watch in his pocket chimed the hour. It was a moment's work to establish glamour to disguise his attire, making him appear more of a Muggle in their ridiculous and revealing clothes. How anyone could get through the day only half dressed was beyond him: didn't they have _any_ standards at all?

The Muggle houses were all the same, as were the gardens, the uniformity a stifling presence as he stalked down the ugly artificial grey-stone pathway. How Potter had managed to cultivate any kind of magical ability at all was beyond Snape; the one constant of his world was the need for an individual to express themselves in one way or another; unfortunately many of his peers chose to do so through appearance instead of endeavour. He did so through Potions, Minerva did so through her transfiguration, and her animagus ability. How you could express your inner self among all of this bland, mindless conformity was beyond him, but Potter had somehow managed to cultivate some form of uniqueness.

Number Four was as bland as all of its neighbours, and Severus was certain that he felt eyes watching him as he mounted the path. With that in mind he made a show of knocking, though not loudly enough to be heard inside, and unlocked and opened the door with a silent spell. He stepped inside and shut the door softly, then cast a spell that would prevent any noise from leaving the house. With the neighbours watching who visited whom, he wanted to conceal the notion that the Dursley's were in need of outside assistance.

"More toast, dear?" a woman asked in the room ahead and Severus trod down the narrow confines of the hallway with distaste. The interior was bland and inappropriately floral, but as he passed the stairs he noticed a small door and received an unexpected memory jolt. One of Potter's memories, garnered with the last remark the boy had graced him with before going back to sleep, washed over him. He knew exactly how to fall into that cupboard so as to avoid the low ceiling, the shelves and the narrow bed that sagged within, and expected to do so to the words '_get in there you little Freak_'.

He had thought that he was unmoved by his charge's plight, but confronted with that memory in this place stirred an odd mixture of uncomfortable emotions. Severus' lip curled with resentment and he strode crankily to the glass door separating him from the adults in the house. A small part of him was pleased that the glass door cracked with the force of being thrown open, and then he was in the room, staring at the couple in front of him. They were complete opposites, fascinating in the same way that watching rancid slime ooze from a crack was. The woman was so thin it was unhealthy, her face drawn into a disapproving frown, while the man was morbidly obese. It was hard to believe that the woman in front of him was closely related to Lily Potter, Lily who had been so warm and alive and was the antithesis of her sister.

"What is the meaning of this?" the fat man roared, and Severus let his wand rise coolly to point between his eyes. Vernon Dursley was some sort of respected business man, according to the information that Severus had, and used to being in control.

"I am here about the boy," Severus intoned, "And if you know what is good for you Dursley, that will be the last time you raise your voice to me."

"See here!" Dursley blustered in a quieter tone, showing that the man at least recognised a threat when it pointed its wand at him, "You can't come bursting into our house! We're decent folk, and don't have to put up with the likes of you!"

"My presence here seems to indicate otherwise," Severus informed him dryly, only to be interrupted again. Honestly, he was beginning to think that Potter was a paragon of good manners now that he'd met the adults who had trained him through his formative years.

"The boy isn't here! Some teacher is looking after him!" Petunia's voice was shrill, "That freak school of his finally decided to give us a break from his unnaturalness."

"Unnatural?" Severus wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Magic was purely elemental, the type of spell being cast governed directly by the elements themselves. Witches and wizards were intimately connected to the world around them, and to hear such slander in the home of the Boy Who Lived was almost unthinkable.

"He's always making freakish things happen and putting our Dudley at risk!" Petunia aired an oft heard complaint, more of Potter's memories stirring in him at the words, "We've been saddled with him for years, and not a jot of help did we get from your lot to control him! The ungrateful brat even had the nerve to keep making things happen after we sent him to school! Kept claiming it was an accident!"

It probably was. Potter's accidental magic was quite strong, even after two years of training. It was the sign of a powerful wizard, one who was still growing into his powers. Merlin knew where the boy would fetch up, but Severus had the suspicion that it would be up to him to deal with the mess.

"And so you felt that it was incumbent upon you to train the boy in menial labour?" Severus asked dryly and had to swallow a smirk as the Muggles took a few moments to parse the question into language they understood. Here was the cause of Potter's common speech as well, and Severus made a mental note to see the boy got some schooling in the proper manners of their world.

"It was the least he could do! We took him in, clothed and fed him, and all without the slightest word of thanks!" Dursley blustered, saying the exactly wrong words, which triggered Severus' anger once more.

"You fed him the bare minimum that he could survive on," he corrected in a cold crisp voice, "If he wasn't a magical being he'd have starved to death in the first three years. You clothed him in the cast offs of your own son, who must be as morbidly obese as his father. You abused him for years and complained when he wasn't grateful enough for the few things he did receive. As a result of all this, he is very ill, undersized for his age, and struggling to overcome years of bad habits and self doubt inculcated by you!"

Severus' voice had risen to a shout in reaction to the magic swirling around him. The house wards were becoming active, strong powerful magic that whispered with the thin edge of his mentor eddied around the room, concentrating mainly on Petunia.

"If you're so worried about him, then you can have the care of him!" she retorted, uneasy with the invisible forces pressing themselves on her, "We never wanted him, and I've always regretted taking him in! Since you're so concerned for the freak, you might as well take charge of him!"

There was a loud crack, and the house wards collapsed around them, the protections garnered by Potter staying with his mother's blood collapsing under the hate filled words. Severus was the focal point, the protection transferring to him as the ward holder, ignorant Muggle that she was, transferred her responsibility to Severus. He was already acting as the boy's unofficial guardian, at the request of the man who had cast the wards. This was recognised and used to cement his place in the eyes of Magic herself as the proper and rightful guardian for one Harry James Potter, Boy Who Lived to Become a Burden to His Potions Master.

With the protections gone, Potter would be unable to return to the house, especially with Sirius Black on the loose. As the new holder of Potter's protections, Severus would be expected to assume the burden of raising the brat. There was a Department in the Ministry that recorded magical contracts and bonds the moment they were formed, an automatic process that formalised them legally in the eyes of the Wizengamot. He was well and truly hoist on a petard of Albus' making.

The Muggles were gaping at him in an imbecilic manner, clearly aware that something of great import had happened, though doubtless completely clueless as to what that was. Severus straightened his spine into his most imposing posture and glared at them down the considerable length of his nose.

"Very well," Severus murmured in his most silky voice, "You have made your position perfectly clear. By mandate of the Blood Wards and Magic herself, Potter is now my responsibility. As his guardian I require recompense from you for the years of abuse and neglect. I have no doubt that attempting to make you see the error of your ways would be fruitless, and your money is worthless to me. You will instead provide me with any possessions Potter may have left in your… hovel, as well as the trunk shipped to you, containing his rightful Inheritance from his parents."

Everyone in their world knew that the wreckage of Godric's Hollow had been carefully sifted through, and that anything salvageable had been boxed up and sent to the Baby Who Lived. Severus only hoped that whoever had sent it had also put sufficient protection charms on it to prevent the Muggles raiding or destroying it.

"There's a big… box thing in the attic," Petunia quavered, "He… doesn't have anything else."

A moment of unguarded legilimency showed that she was aware that some line had been crossed, and there was a deeply buried flicker of shame in her mind. The same probe turned upon Dursley revealed a mind awash in so much hate and directed anger that Severus felt no remorse at all in promptly stunning the man as viciously as he could. Potter may have been a burden thrust upon him, but that didn't mean he would allow Muggles to think such things of the child.

He followed the terrified woman up the stairs to collect the trunk, outwardly taking a small amount of satisfaction in her fear. Inwardly, he was compiling a list of chores he would need to complete before returning to Hogwarts and informing his employer and his newly acquired ward of the situation.

0o0o0o0

Dizzy was of some use, informing him that his message had been passed on to the brat, and that the elf had yet to commence shopping for 'Master Snape's ward'. The last phrase being particularly telling: if the elf already regarded Potter as his ward then the Ministry probably did too. The elf handed the brats key over to Severus, who handed over his own in reply. As guardian of the little pest it was incumbent upon Severus to supply adequate clothing, shelter, education and nourishment, which meant that he would be able to devise a _very_ comprehensive potion and study regime for Potter to follow. His 'ward' would be a credit to him in appearance and knowledge if it was the last thing either of them did.

With the elf dispatched to complete the much longer list of errands, Severus returned to the school. Once again he noted that the door leading to Potter's temporary rooms needed to be properly warded. As he ascended the narrow stairs he could hear the teen moving around the room behind the door. Judging that he bore news that some would consider 'distasteful' Severus made a show of the proprieties by knocking before he entered.

Potter straightened from tidying his desk, surprise on his face. He quickly schooled himself into a more neutral expression and placed the pot of ink he was holding back into its place.

"Good morning Professor," there was a nervous quality in the teens voice, and Severus looked around the room. He noticed that the bed was perfectly made, the surfaces were all free of dust, and the few possessions that had been on display were placed strictly aligned according to some pre-existing notion of tidiness. The room had not been untidy when Severus had visited it last night, which had been a surprise he would never admit to, but now it was unnaturally neat. Not even Severus personal quarters were this tidy and he was a man known for his penchant for neatness. In their world chaos and disorganisation were the more common states of existence, as magic was by its very nature a chaotic force. Potter's posture and expression were… frightened.

In a flash, Severus understood. Potter had been told to wait in his room for an indefinite period for an unknown reason with an unexplained punishment hanging over his head if he disobeyed. He was attempting to allay that punishment by ensuring his room was perfectly neat, that his schoolwork was prepared for inspection and that his appearance was up to standard. Severus doubted that his relatives would have forgone punishing the teen for achieving this level of perceived perfection in the face of their displeasure, just as he was sure that if the teen _hadn't_ made an effort the punishment was worsened. Part of him understood that Potter was only responding to a pattern that had been beaten, possibly literally, into him at childhood, but the rest of him resented being treated like he was one of the useless Muggles.

"Good morning Potter," Severus said calmly enough, though he was aware that there was an edge to his voice, "Sit down."

Potter sat on the cushion and trunk that served as a desk chair, leaving the armchair for his professor.

"Good morning sir," he said quietly, "Did… do you want to see my work?"

The teen was obviously searching for the reason that he was being confined to his room, and Severus shook his head as he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs and arranged his robes just so, marshalling his thoughts.

"There are two matters that we must discuss," Severus watched the teen bite his lip, eyes fixed on the man opposite him. The Potions Master could see that he was apprehensive, but could see no way to change that given the topics he was about to cover.

"I see no reason to prevaricate. The first matter pertains to events from your past. When you were born, your parents appointed for you a godparent, in the tradition of our culture. The man that they chose is known as Sirius Black, a fellow year mate and long time friend to your father. Some time later, when your parents realised that they had been targeted by the Dark Lord they took you into hiding with them, and they asked Sirius Black to be their Secret Keeper in a spell that would hide them from the world," Severus spoke slowly and calmly, letting nothing of his feelings for his former foes bleed through into his words. Initially, Potter looked confused but as Severus continued his face had shown his interest in the topic.

"If they were hiding… how did He find them?" Potter's voice was faint, and he looked as if he wished he hadn't asked, probably expecting Severus to use the question as an excuse not to continue. Severus knew himself well enough to know that in other circumstances he probably would have seized that excuse. With the knowledge he had today, his tongue was effectively curbed.

"Sirius Black betrayed them to the Dark Lord," Severus motioned for quiet, and the tense teen settled reluctantly, anger burning in his eyes. The Potions Master appreciated the self control and acknowledged it with a regal nod of the head.

"He was captured eventually and incarcerated for his crimes at the same time that you were sent to your Aunt and Uncles dubious protection. Only last night he escaped from his cell in the Wizarding prison, known as Azkaban. Indications are that he will try to finish the Dark Lord's work and murder you. As I had errands today off the grounds, I left instructions for you to remain in your room."

This was as close as he would ever get to reassuring the boy in front of him that he wasn't about to be punished for some spuriously manufactured infraction of the rules. Of course any true infraction of the rules would be dealt with promptly. Guardian or no, Severus was not about to allow the boy to rampage unchecked through the castle.

"You will no longer be able to wander the school grounds without an adult escorting you, though if I am in residence you may walk through the school proper. I will also require your assistance to ward your front door," he continued, "If I leave the school grounds for any reason you are to remain in your room behind the wards until I return. If I find you have left the wards safety while I am away you will be punished, is that clear?"

"Yes Professor, I understand," Potter said quietly, and Snape nodded. Now they would come to the truly distasteful portion of the morning, as he informed the boy of the transfer of guardianship from the Muggles to himself.

0o0o0o0


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry**

When he'd woken that morning, Harry had been less than pleased to hear via a House Elf that he was under… well, house arrest was the best way he could think to describe it. He'd had a very odd dream last night that Snape had been in to visit him and asked him about his relatives, or his clothes, or possibly about his flying ability, Harry wasn't really sure.

He certainly couldn't figure out what he'd done to warrant being put under house arrest, but figured that Snape didn't need a reason in the end. He decided to clean his room and belongings, just in case Snape really _had_ been in his room last night, and that was the reason the man was locking him up. Harry had met the schoolwork deadline two days early, so his teacher couldn't be angry about that, and he had always been on time when he was supposed to report to his professor. He'd learned that adults didn't really need a proper reason to punish him, and summer holidays were usually littered with unwarranted punishments, so Harry didn't think about it for too long.

To say that he was astonished to learn that he had a godfather was an understatement. That the man was a criminal apparently bent on his destruction seemed typical of his life so far, and if Harry had been with any other adult he'd have been asking a million and one questions. The inadvertent one that he'd let slip had been enough of a shock to both him and Snape, especially when the man hadn't stormed out shouting about Harry's rudeness. He'd decided not to push his luck.

He _did_ wonder what was so bad that the murderous godfather was the easier news to impart. Snape hadn't been too pleased talking about Harry's past, but the teen knew the man in front of him well enough to know that there was another shoe hanging over his head, waiting to drop with a sickening thud.

"I had occasion to mark your clothes, Potter," Snape continued after a short silence, and Harry frowned, wondering for a moment how you would grade a uniform before realising that Snape had noticed something about what he was wearing.

"My uniform, sir?" Harry queried, "Is it… should I be wearing something else?"

"School is currently out of session," Snape looked as if he'd heard exactly what Harry had first thought and was restraining his impulse to utter scathing remarks, "I had thought you would wear the clothes you usually wore at this time of year."

"Usually I'm with my Aunt and Uncle, sir," Harry didn't want to talk about this at all, and so chose his words carefully, "I thought that as I was still at school I should continue to wear my uniform."

"As I said, Potter, your attire had aroused some mild curiosity on my part. Last night you gave me a partial explanation for the rags you have concealed in your trunk. As the Headmaster made me temporarily responsible for you, I felt it my duty to investigate further, which brings us to the second issue we must discuss."

"That wasn't a dream?" Harry blurted and then got himself sharply under control. He had desperately hoped that the bit about Snape in a tutu had been some sort of hallucination. There was a faint tickling sensation in the back of his head, and Snape's eyes narrowed hatefully.

"The conversation wasn't, the image in your mind undoubtedly was," he was sharply informed, "I'll thank you not to share it with any one else."

"No sir," Harry nodded, breaking eye contact, which also ended the tickling sensation. His mind was whirling at the confirmation that Snape could indeed read thoughts, a scary revelation.

"During the course of my investigation I had reason to exchange words with your Aunt and Uncle, an experience that was almost as unpleasant as teaching Longbottom," Snape said dryly and Harry cringed. His magic-averse relatives would not have been smart enough to be civil to the man before him, and he had no doubt that Snape was going to make him pay for whatever insults his uncle had shouted at the older wizard.

"Your aunt, who bears no resemblance to her sister in appearance, temperament or intellect, informed me during the course of our… discussion that she wished to terminate her guardianship of you. As I am your temporary guardian, the wards of protection centred on your aunt's house chose to transfer their guardianship of you to me in its entirety. We are now bound together as guardian and ward until you come of age in five years time."

Harry's mind whirled in shock, and it was all he could do not to gape at the man opposite him. His aunt had made Snape his guardian in her place? He was stuck with yet another adult who hated him until he was seventeen? True, he'd always known that his relatives hated him in some form or another, but to hear that he'd been coolly handed over as an unwanted burden was still something of a blow. The tickling sensation was back, but Harry was too stunned and hurt, and even a little afraid, to try and break eye contact, let alone mind that the man could see his thoughts.

"As such, I have devised a schedule of potions for you to take to combat the damage done to you by those Muggles in your formative years. These will be delivered with your meals, and I will know if you don't take them promptly," Snape went on after a moment, "You will also be provided with a wardrobe more suitable to a young man of your stature in society. You may keep your cousins rags for a while longer, however, as I plan to take a trip to Salazar's Chamber tomorrow, with you guiding me. I will also ask the castle to come up with a door sentinel for your rooms. I prefer that you remain here for now, though that will change if you in any way abuse my trust. Any infraction of the rules I have set will have you moved into my rooms where I will keep a very close eye upon you. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry said dazedly, "Stay in my rooms when you leave the castle, stay in the castle when you are not with me, only go out in the grounds with an adult escort and take the potions promptly."

He'd learned at a young age to repeat the 'rules' back perfectly, though he couldn't quite understand why doing so now made Snape look displeased. He'd probably been looking forward to dishing out some sort of punishment.

"What time do you want me to be in the foyer tomorrow?" Harry pushed his thoughts aside for now, and straightened. He'd deal with all of this in private.

"Eight promptly, and you will continue to be prompt in our evening meetings as well," Snape replied, "I will expect to see you properly attired – school uniforms are not appropriate when school is not in session. Dizzy will bring your things."

"Yes sir," Harry said again, and Snape nodded sharply before sweeping out of the room. The green eyed teen heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam shut and slumped on his makeshift seat. He wasn't sure if things had just gotten better or worse.

0o0o0o0

The arrival of Dizzy was a very welcome distraction. Harry had been surprised to see another house elf, having somehow got the idea that they were quite rare in the Wizarding world. This elf was quite different to Dobby, it didn't cringe or overreact the same way Dobby had, leading Harry to wonder if Dobby was affected more by the beatings and punishments than Harry had suspected.

Dizzy was carrying a small trunk, which she enlarged and placed beside his school trunk. It had his initials on it as well, so Harry took that to mean that he was its owner. Part of him was mildly indignant that Snape had taken so much of a liberty with his money, but when he asked for his key back Dizzy informed him that Master Snape had paid for these things and was keeping Harry's key 'safe', whatever that meant. It had always been perfectly safe before, he'd never lose something that important.

He pondered over the idea that Snape had bought the trunk and its contents for him, wondering how much the Potions Master hated the idea. Harry was usually careful of his uniforms, and the Weasley jumpers, so being careful of the new clothes wouldn't be too hard. He wouldn't want his 'guardian' to think he didn't appreciate the money spent. Snape certainly hadn't stinted on the job. There were winter and summer clothes there, all of good quality, all plain and simple colours. Harry was relieved that he wasn't to be dressed in Slytherin or Gryffindor colours – he might be proud of his house but he didn't think red and gold were his best combination. Neither were silver and green.

Dizzy had been very clever in her purchases. There were the traditional over robe, similar in cut to his student ones, but for underneath the clothes were a Muggle style, slightly more formal than he was used to wearing but nothing he could object to. There were slacks and linen shirts in various weights and colours, as well as waistcoats to match the slacks. Some of the shirts had collars, others didn't, and despite the formal style they were very comfortable when he put them on. He left the outer robe off for now, not being in the habit of wearing one in private, and investigated the pyjamas and under things that Dizzy had also provided. There was even a pair of house shoes, which were a more formal version of Muggle slippers, and some ankle high boots that reminded him vaguely of Doc Martins.

"Thanks Dizzy, these are… very smart," Harry smiled at the elf, which had stayed to supervise his exploration and change out of uniform. She smiled and blushed faintly, patting his arm in response.

"Master Snape was very specific," Dizzy piped clearly, "There is one more."

Harry frowned, glancing into the trunk. It was bigger on the inside to accommodate all that it held, and he couldn't imagine that he'd need much more than this. There were even new school uniforms for next year, which he'd transferred to his school trunk. He'd piled up the Dursley clothes, keeping the best two shirts and pair of trousers for tomorrow, along with the hugely oversized trainers. Dizzy had banished the rest, a dark gleam in her eye, before hugging Harry sympathetically. This was more contact than he was used to in the course of the summer holidays, but he hugged back gamely, vaguely happy that she wasn't crying like Dobby had.

"I can't imagine I'd need anything else," he told the little elf, but she nodded emphatically and pulled a small velvet pouch from nowhere. It was a dark green colour, with silver draw strings, and when Harry took it from the elf, it was heavy. He opened the bag carefully and gasped when a heavy fob watch slid out into his palm, trailing a chain. It had a complicated design traced on it, one that seemed to move if Harry looked at it for too long, and it had two hinged covers. The front face told Muggle time, a simple white and gold face. The back face told you where you should be, or if you were late, a green face with black writing upon it.

"It's… wow…" Harry gaped at the elf, and then allowed her to show him how to clip it on the chain into his waistcoat. There was a small pocket especially designed for it, and the weight of the watch there was very reassuring. As he'd been wearing a watch he'd salvaged from Dudley's second bedroom, this was a big step up in the world.

"It's nickel," Dizzy informed him, "No polishing required!"

She handed him a small leaflet and then told him goodbye, popping off to do whatever it was elves did when they were out of sight. Harry curled into the armchair and read the leaflet carefully. The watch would wind itself for as long as he wore it, and would give more accurate readings on the back face the longer he had it. Apparently it needed to get used to his schedule, a concept that didn't at all strike Harry as odd. He told the watch about his evening schedule and his morning meeting tomorrow and then put it back in his pocket, leaning into his armchair and trying to assimilate the information of the morning.

At lunch time, marked by the arrival of his tray of sandwiches, Harry swallowed the accompanying potion at once, grimaced through the taste and fell on the pumpkin juice to clear his mouth. Thirst slaked, he nibbled on a couple of ham and pickle sandwiches before taking a few pieces of fruit and returning to his armchair. He'd just finished a really crisp apple when the stones above his door swelled a little and resolved themselves into a snake. The snake eyed him for a moment, and then arranged itself comfortably, draping its coils over his lintel.

"Hello," Harry thought it best to be polite, and the snake raised its head higher to look him over again.

"Greetings Little One," it replied, "My name is Seth."

"Hello Seth," Harry smiled, "I'm Harry."

"You are the Little One, who owns these chambers," Seth corrected, "I am one of your guardians."

"One of?" Harry asked, blushing at the new nickname. Why couldn't he ever be called something normal, why did his nicknames all have to be embarrassing or really over the top?

"My sister Seketh guards your outer door," Seth confirmed, nodding regally.

"You two can communicate with each other, and you can tell me when I have a guest," Harry realised, "Are you Egyptian Asps? Your names…"

"We are," Seth looked ridiculously pleased that Harry had noticed that little detail, "We will also trap anyone who should not be near you between us. Herself thought it best that you have this additional defence, and in addition no one but our Little One can gain access to these rooms."

That made sense. If Hogwarts, and that was who Harry thought Seth was referring to when he said Herself, had arranged for snakes to guard the door, then parsel tongue would be required to gain entry. Harry was the only person who could speak to snakes around, and in addition to this no one would be able to copy his password – they wouldn't understand it.

Harry beamed and looked up at the ceiling above him for lack of any better direction.

"Thanks," he called, and Seth nodded in approval before curling up and going to sleep.

0o0o0o0

The new watch had a nice chime to it, and warned him in plenty of time to be ready for his morning meeting. He left it on his desk though, not wanting to risk damaging the thing sliding down to the Chamber.

Harry was of two minds about their return. On the one hand it would be interesting to properly explore the chamber and see what Slytherin had left behind besides a homicidal snake, but on the other hand he wasn't too sure about returning to the place where Ginny had nearly been killed by Voldemort so soon. Seeing the corpse of his victim was also going to be unnerving – sentient or not, that Basilisk had lived for a very long time.

Snape was waiting outside his door. The Potions Master was wearing a robe that had a very large pink stain over it – Harry thought it looked kind of like the stain that black cloth fades into when its had bleach splashed on it. He also had a very large satchel that Harry assumed had a lot of expanded space inside it for all the ingredients he was hoping to find down there.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry offered the greeting politely, though Snape only grunted in reply, sweeping his eyes over Harry's clothes. Dudley's rags didn't fit him any better than they had when first handed over to him, and Harry was wearing two shirts to ward off the chill of the Chamber. Snape pulled his wand out and snapped out a quiet spell which shrunk the clothes swimming on Harry's frame to a good fit, including the shoes.

"Thank you sir," Harry said meekly, trying not to show that he was annoyed that his teacher hadn't bothered to warn him what the spell was. He'd flinched pretty badly, something that he hated doing, because it gave the other person control over you.

"Do you have everything you'll need Potter?" Snape hadn't responded to his quiet thanks last night either, and Harry figured the man wasn't comfortable with appearing to do something nice.

"Um… I'd like my wand sir, for defence only," Harry hastened to add, "And, are we collecting Fawkes on our way there?"

"What do you need the Phoenix for?" Snape asked, not moving an inch. Harry figured that he wasn't going to be getting his wand either and swallowed a sigh.

"The entry is very steep, sir, and I never found another way out. Fawkes had to carry all of us back up the slope. If we don't take him then we'll need a rope at least, or a ladder of some kind," Harry replied, and Snape sighed before jerking his head. He set off at a brisk pace for the dungeons, though he turned in the direction of Mr Filch's office. Harry bit down on another sigh as he trotted along behind, unable to keep up with the older mans pace. He suspected that his teacher was walking this quickly on purpose, to make him feel smaller than he was.

Filch ended up lending them a small rope ladder, which would barely reach past the entry to the Chamber. Harry figured that it must expand magically, and managed not to ask any questions that would annoy the other man. Snape led the way back to the foyer, and stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase.

"Here," he thrust Harry's wand at him, "In emergencies only, or with my permission, Potter. I will confiscate it if you disobey me."

"Yes sir," Harry ran his fingers over his wand lightly before tucking it into a belt loop. Snape raised an impatient eyebrow, and Harry realised that the other man didn't know where the entrance to the Chamber was.

"It's the haunted girl's toilet on the third floor that we need, sir," Harry informed his teacher, and the man swept a sarcastic hand out, indicating that Harry was to go first. The teen scurried quickly up the stairs, hoping that Myrtle would be able to keep her mouth shut about all the things they'd done in there last year. It was for this reason that he peered around cautiously upon his entrance, though Snape chose to interpret his actions as cowardice.

"She can't hurt you Potter," the potions master sneered, "She's non-corporeal."

"She was killed by the Basilisk," Harry glanced back at the tall man, hoping that he wasn't violating a Rule by trying to explain, "She reminds me of what could have happened to Ginny."

He located the sink and squinted at the snake, glad that the torch illuminating this toilet was guttering, thus causing the snake to appear as if it was writhing on the tap.

"Open," he hissed and stood back as the sinks shifted, the dark hole yawning before them. Snape secured the ladder to some pipe work with a series of spells and then kicked the rungs into the hole. Harry watched it unfurl, and then unfurl, and unfurl some more before a faint clunk announced it had hit the bottom.

"It's really filthy down there, and the landing is a bit rough," Harry warned, but Snape just scowled and gestured for him to go first. Harry resisted the urge to shrug, knowing that would be against a Rule, and jumped into the hole, his breath catching as he slid rapidly down the pipe beside the ladder until he was spat out at the bottom. He rolled quickly to his feet and got out of the way, the dried skeletons crunching under his feet.

Four minutes later, according to Dudley's watch, Snape appeared, stepping off the rope ladder. Harry blushed – he hadn't even considered using the ladder to get down – and waited for his teacher to lose interest in the bones beneath their feet.

"Which way, Potter?" Snape asked after a moment, and Harry pointed the way. He'd lit his wand when he first arrived, and when Snape also used the lumos spell Harry took the lead once more, following the tunnel to the place where the ceiling had caved in.

"Was this here before?" Snape asked, concern shading his voice for the first time. Harry shook his head, wondering what the teachers had been told about the events in the Chamber. Obviously not much if Snape didn't know that Lockhart was responsible for this particular obstacle.

"Professor Lockhart stole Ron's wand when we came across an old skin that the Basilisk had shed. He was going to take a bit of the skin back up and tell everyone that he'd killed the monster after it killed Ginny, and destroyed the memories of Ron and me. Ron's wand exploded though, and part of the roof caved in. Lock… I mean Professor Lockhart was obliviated entirely, and he and Ron were separated from me. I went on while Ron moved enough rocks for us to get back," Harry explained in a quiet voice, though it was hard to be polite about Lockhart in the light of his treachery.

"You didn't use a repair spell?" Snape frowned and Harry shook his head.

"I didn't want to risk it going wrong sir, and Ron's wand wasn't reliable," he pointed to the narrow opening that Ginny and he had crawled through, "That's where we got through."

"Lockhart wasn't reliable either," Snape retorted, cancelling the light spell on his wand, "What on earth made you choose him for assistance?"

"Lockhart may have been useless," Harry was stung out of politeness in an effort to defend his choices, "But if he was going to get Ginny out he needed to know what we'd figured out about the Chamber and the Basilisk. When we got to his office he was packing to leave, but Ron and I disarmed him and forced him to come along."

"For Salazar's sake, why?" Snape spluttered, and Harry turned his face away, not wanting the older man to see the feelings he was unable to hide. He thought that Snape could only read his mind through eye contact and didn't want the man to know how terrified he'd been.

"Because he was an adult! Even if he was a coward he must have known more defence spells than we did. There wasn't time to go to anyone else; by the time we'd made McGonagall listen Ginny could have died!"

Harry was fairly certain that the anguish he was feeling had come across clearly in his voice, and struggled to regain his control. Adults seemed to be very unreliable, no matter which world he was in, and Harry wondered if he'd ever find someone other than Ron and Hermione that he could trust to watch his back when things were at their worst.

"Well, there will be no more of your foolishness. I am your guardian now. Next time, should there even _be_ a next time, and knowing you Potter there will be, you will come to me," Snape informed him coldly and stepped forward without waiting for Harry to reply. The teen watched his teacher repair the damaged tunnel with a series of really powerful spells before bending to examine the shed skin.

0o0o0o0

They spent some time gathering the shed skin into a special pouch, and then Snape spent a good ten minutes going over the door of the Chamber itself, which Harry had shoved on their way out, hoping it would shut. Harry directed his wand light onto it helpfully and stood back, wondering at the Slytherin mind that could be so fascinated by a vault door with snakes on it. Eventually he opened it for his teacher, and they were immediately assaulted by the smell of rotting Basilisk. Snape merely produced a couple of cloths, one of which he tied around his mouth and nose. Harry discovered that when he did the same something about the cloth blocked the smell. You didn't have to be a mind reader to understand that he was surprised by this, because Snape rolled his eyes.

"The cloth is charmed to heat up if the fumes become toxic, otherwise the charm would be as much of a hazard to the wearer as whatever they were handling," Harry was informed impatiently, "Now come along, Potter."

He came along as ordered, climbing into the Chamber itself, walking a step behind and to the side of his teacher, his wand held aloft to illuminate the statues around them. It was very slimy still, with pools of water mirroring the distant cavernous roof. Water was dripping somewhere, and at the far end of the cavern Salazar's giant statue rested, its mouth still open. In front of it lay the tattered corpse of the Basilisk. Snape stood still for a moment before hurrying to the corpse. Closer up, Harry could see that the rodents that the Basilisk had preyed upon had in turn gnawed upon it. Several of their corpses lay scattered around the remains, evidently poisoned by the Basilisk's flesh.

Snape knew a spell to make his wand light up without anyone holding it, and stuck it in the mouth of the nearest statue. Harry copied the spell cautiously and laid his own wand in the opposite statue, missing his teacher's look of surprise.

"What do you want me to do sir?" Harry asked quietly, knowing that there would be some sort of task waiting for him. Off to one side he could see the blood that marked the spot where he had collapsed, waiting to die, and beyond it the dried puddle of ink that the diary had spewed forth when he'd stabbed it with the tooth that had so nearly killed him. He didn't like being here at all, but knew better than to complain about it. It seemed to be his lot in life to be forced into places he'd rather not be.

"For now, you can pass me instruments and store the samples I give you," Snape's voice recalled Harry to the present, "What were you staring at?"

Harry wanted to say 'nothing' but his teacher had already followed his line of sight and stalked over to stare down at the little spot of Harry's blood and the remains of the ink puddle. An expression twisted the mans face for a moment, but it was gone before Harry could read it, and when his teacher turned to look at Harry again, his face was devoid of expression.

"Stand over here, Potter," Snape directed and Harry found himself positioned so that he couldn't see the blood any more. Harry was grateful for that, even though he didn't think his teacher had done it on purpose.

0o0o0o0

After three days of descending to the Chamber, Harry was almost sanguine about the place. Snape had him hand instruments and jars up to the taller man, and then stow the filled containers in the leather satchel his teacher carried each time. They avoided Myrtle every time they entered or exited the Chamber, much to Harry's relief. She knew far too much about what they'd been up to in that toilet for Harry's piece of mind, and he certainly didn't want Hermione to get in trouble for brewing Polyjuice Potion with stolen ingredients.

Snape, of course, noticed him looking for the spiteful ghost, and as they walked towards the vault door on the morning of the fourth day chose to assure Harry in his most sarcastic tone that Moaning Myrtle was no threat to the Boy Who Lived.

"It's not that," Harry was stung into replying, something that he was sure to land him in trouble. He bit his lip to keep the rest in, halting as they came to the closed Chamber door. Today they were to search the Chamber and see what else had been left behind by Slytherin. Harry hoped that Fawkes was keeping an ear out, because if there was an emergency that took Snape out, it was unlikely that Harry would be able to get the man to safety alone.

"What is it then?" Snape leaned casually on the vault door, one hand caressing one of the snakes absently. Harry's teacher seemed to really like this door, something about the artistry appealed to him. Harry had to admit that it was a very impressive piece of spell work, especially as it appeared to have been spelled entirely in parsel tongue. He wondered what other spells Salazar Slytherin had known or created in that language, but as everyone seemed to think speaking to snakes was slightly evil he didn't want to inquire further. He'd had enough of being a figure of fear and suspicion thank you very much.

"Its… she was his first ever victim," Harry fidgeted with the hem of his worn t-shirt. He missed being able to wear the nicer clothes his teacher had bought for him, even if they were a bit more formal than he would have chosen for himself. He liked that they fit him, and had been bought solely for him, even if it had been done on the order of a man that had been unexpectedly lumbered with his guardianship.

"Who's victim? The Basilisk?" Snape sounded surprised, and Harry shook his head. He looked up at his teacher, making clear eye contact and stumbling into an explanation of sorts, knowing that the eye contact would help his teacher read his thoughts and experiences, and hoping that would make what he was saying clearer.

"When the Chamber was first opened fifty years ago, it was done by a student here by the name of Tom Riddle. Myrtle used to follow people about so she could spy and report on them, and when she caught him opening the Chamber she became the first person he killed with the Basilisk, though there were a number of incidences with the animals at the school before hand. When the governors threatened to shut the school, Riddle would have ended back in the Muggle orphanage where he grew up full time, so he pretended to catch Hagrid opening the Chamber. Hagrid was actually raising an acromantula by the name of Aragog, but because he escaped into the Forbidden Forest, no one could prove that Aragog was or wasn't the monster. Tom Riddle grew up to be the man you know as Lord Voldemort," Harry sighed, "He told me all this when I was trying to save Ginny. Before I killed the memory of himself that he'd trapped in a diary."

"The Dark Lord's true name is Tom Riddle?" Snape looked like he'd been slapped with a wet fish, and Harry nodded, bearing up under the mental 'tickle' that was Snape's mind-whammy-thing.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry replied, "He's got an award for Special Services to the School for turning in Hagrid."

"It's in the Slytherin trophy case," Snape sounded dazed and the tickling feeling faded away. Harry waited until his teacher had straightened away from the door and opened it, letting his teacher climb in first once more.

There was nothing at all left of the Basilisk, even the bones had been brought up to Snape's dungeon workroom. The man hadn't let a single part of the creature go to waste, and Harry had learned a lot about dissection and ingredient gathering in the last three days.

When he gained the floor next to his teacher, Harry waited patiently for instructions. He'd already had the 'you will not touch anything/wander off/do more than breathe under pain of punishment' speech upstairs, along with the 'I won't be killed by your foolish Gryffindor tendencies' speech. Harry had borne it silently; knowing that to protest or defend himself would only cause trouble. He was well aware that Salazar Slytherin hadn't been the nicest of the Founders, and didn't want to spring a very old booby trap that could get anyone hurt or killed.

"Light your wand," the impatient instruction made Harry jump a little, but he did as he was told, and watched as his teacher did the same.

Snape stalked off, with Harry close on his heels. He watched as his Professor examined the walls and statues slowly and carefully, determined not to do anything to distract or irritate the man while he was working. Despite the fact that Snape could be domineering, sarcastic and downright nasty, he hadn't actually punished Harry for anything since the school broke up, and his demands had been reasonable. Harry would have preferred the man didn't read his mind at the drop of a broomstick, but that couldn't be helped and he avoided eye contact whenever he politely could, which did limit the opportunities Snape had for his mental rummaging. Harry wasn't sure if the man was trying to catch him in a lie or merely thought he was incapable of clearly expressing himself.

They had reached the large statue at the far end of the cavern, its mouth gaping open. There was a slight breeze from the mouth, and Snape waded through a particularly deep puddle to get to it.

"Careful, sir, that thing opens and closes," Harry felt obliged to warn his reluctant guardian, "Its password activated, but the Basilisk must have had a way to open and close it as well, because it clearly was feeding on the rodents around here."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, but leaned into the mouth anyway. Harry tensed, and sure enough the mouth began to close as his teachers weight activated what Harry assumed was a counter balance somewhere.

"Open!" Harry hissed urgently, reversing the action and Snape slithered into the puddle with an undignified splash. He shot Harry a dark look, but Harry was too relieved to be worried about it. In other circumstances the undignified landing might have been funny, but he was all too aware that death was well acquainted with this Chamber and didn't want to tempt fate. The Head of Slytherin being eaten by a statue of the Founder of his House was not something that Harry could laugh at.

"We need to find a way to keep the mouth open, Potter. There is something behind this statue," Snape informed him, and Harry frowned, looking around for something to wedge into the mouth.

"There isn't anything to wedge in there, Professor, and if there is a command to keep the mouth open, I certainly don't know it," he reported after a moment.

Snape nodded and then motioned him further back. Harry watched, a little awed, as his teacher proceeded to take apart the statue, removing the pieces that could move with surgical precision, and dismantling several hefty spells as well.

"My Founder was not as clever as he would have liked to think," Snape sounded a little breathless when the stunning display was over. The air was slippery with the residue of the spells, which told Harry that some of them had been Dark in nature. It was this awareness that prompted him to raise his wand as his teacher approached the hole where the mouth had been, and that was all that allowed him to react in time when the mouth of the statue spewed forth a luminescent vile green liquid.

Harry shouted, a wordless noise, and he felt magic go coursing through him and out of his wand. Whatever the spell was, it diverted the liquid before it could touch his teacher, arcing over the top of them both to splash to the ground behind Harry, where it promptly began eating away at the rough stone floor. The spell left Harry feeling a little drained and he swayed on the spot before regaining his balance. Snape's arm wove around his waist, and his teacher dragged him away from the noxious looking puddle as well as the statue that was now decidedly looking worse for wear.

"Sorry sir," Harry mumbled, still reeling in the aftermath. He tried to straighten away from Snape, not wanting to inconvenience the man any more than he already was, but ended up leaning more heavily on him instead.

"Stay still Potter," Snape said sharply and Harry complied unhappily, co-operating as best he could when Snape manoeuvred him over to the wall well clear of the ever deepening hole and sat him down carefully. He endured the subsequent poking and prodding wordlessly, but looked up with relief when Fawkes swept into the Chamber, singing softly. The Potions Master moved aside and Fawkes landed in Harry's lap, cooing and angling his head to be petted. The song had helped restore his sense of balance and he spent a few minutes stroking warm feathers, comforted by the mere presence of the Headmaster's familiar.

When Fawkes finally tucked his head into Harry's neck and apparently went to sleep, Harry looked up in time to see his teachers feet disappear into the gaping maw of the statue. Harry tensed, and then forced himself to relax. Snape was an adult, and as such he was able to take care of himself. More than that, he was a Head of House, which meant that his skills as a mage were formidable.

Harry couldn't quite convince himself not to worry about his guardian while Fawkes slumbered comfortably against him.

0o0o0o0


	5. Chapter 5

**Snape**

Severus had to admit – in the privacy of his own thoughts – that he was surprised by how quiet Potter had been about his exploits in Salazar's chamber. He had expected the boy to boast more, to be eager to show off his prowess and daring in the rescue of the youngest Weasley: the opposite had been true. The Boy Who Lived had been quite diffident about his experiences, and had stayed very close to Severus' side. The Potions Master's lecture about obedience and good behaviour had been taken to heart; Potter hadn't so much as stirred without prior permission.

The Chamber had been fascinating. His Head of House had left behind a veritable treasure trove for his descendents, something that Severus took great pleasure in plundering. Inside the statue had been a small library of very rare and unique books. He was certain that three of them were actually written in Parseltongue, which made them more precious than the whole of Hogwarts restricted section. It had long been debated if the language of snakes was one that could be recorded and incanted in, and now Severus alone had actual proof that it was. Potter would have to translate it, of course, but that was only a small blot on an otherwise valuable find.

Like the current Head of House, Salazar had been a Potions Master as well as a Master of Spell craft, and so half of the unique library was devoted to Potions, some of which had been thought lost to time, and others which had been eradicated by misguided 'light' wizards, intent on preserving the purity of the society they lived in by eradicating any questionable influence. It was the habit of his kind to purge their knowledge, usually in reaction to someone grossly misusing a spell or potion, which had the unfortunate effect that many useful and necessary spells or potions had been lost.

When his retrieval mission ended, he had to carry Potter out of the Chamber; the boy was so deeply asleep. Albus' phoenix would not allow him to wake the boy, and when they'd emerged from the girl's toilet on the third floor he'd had the misfortune to run across Poppy. She was horrified that the boy had yet again strained his magic, that he was visiting 'that beastly damp place' and that Severus had enlisted his help in dissecting 'that wretched thing'. In very short order, he was treated to yet another care and feeding lecture, one that this time included access to sunshine and healthy exercise. He was to take his charge outside for a portion of every day and see to it that he engaged in some form of recreation. Potter slept through the entire diatribe, and Severus was only too pleased to plunk the brat on his bed and leave him to it.

The next morning he sent a short note to be included on Potter's breakfast tray, and met his charge in the foyer of the castle precisely at eight. Potter was dressed properly in a light brown set of robes and held the Muggle rags under one arm as instructed. Severus nodded in rare approval and led the boy outside, down the steps and off to the side of the gamekeepers hut, directing him with a sharp gesture to put the clothes on the ground.

"Have these items any sentimental value, Potter?" Severus asked curiously, and the boy looked up at him, his green eyes so clear that it was difficult to resist using Legilimency on him. Severus knew that Potter was aware of his abilities, because the boy sometimes avoided eye contact, but this time there was not even a minimal attempt to keep the Potions Master out.

"No sir," Potter sighed, slight loathing tingeing his thoughts, "They're just clothes."

"Very well," Snape nodded and set fire to them, taking satisfaction in knowing that the boy would be better dressed from now on, at his insistence. The rags had been a severe affront to his guardianship, and Severus suspected that the bond formed by holding Potter's protections was growing in strength. He had hated watching the boy move about dressed that way, and satisfaction that he had provided far better clothes and accruements for the child was swelling in his chest. Potter was wearing his watch today as well, something he hadn't done in the Chamber. When questioned, the boy had admitted that he didn't want to risk damaging it, which at least showed he appreciated the value of the gift.

"You are never to return to the Muggles again, Potter, no matter what the situation is," Severus instructed, watching his charge watch the small fire, "If I am, for whatever reason, unable to fulfil my duties as your Guardian, you will seek shelter at the school. Your Head of House has agreed to take over my duties to you should I ever be rendered incapable of performing them."

"Yes sir," Harry looked up, smoke swirling across his eyes. Severus nodded and led the way back into the castle.

As Poppy had threatened to get the Ward Holder of Hogwarts, interfering old coot that he was, to bar Severus entry to the dungeons for the remainder of the holiday, Severus had set up a temporary workspace on the ground floor in a little used classroom. This particular room was too small for inter-house classes and too drafty in winter for lessons to take place, but in summer it caught a fair amount of light and had the added advantage of the windows overlooking a small, disused courtyard. Small in the Hogwarts sense, that is, which meant it was large enough for a three hundred year old oak tree to grow in and still have room for grass and beds of flowers mixed with weeds in it. Potter was nimble, and could climb in and out of the window to gain access to the yard or Severus' workroom, which meant that Severus could supervise the boy while he was outside without having to leave his work.

Salazar's books were already here, as well as a number of Severus' private reference books, and eventually he would set up a laboratory for his own use. Potter would also be brewing this summer, as part of his continued education, as well as studying the third year texts that Severus had procured from the school library. His Ward would improve his overall grades this year or Severus would know the reason why.

"Have a seat, Potter," Severus pointed to the small table that was to be the boys desk, "I will explain what you will be doing for the rest of your summer."

Potter sat down, reluctance dragging at his shoulders and Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't as if he was about to sentence the boy to weeks of misery and starvation, for Merlin's sake. Severus perched on the edge of his own, much larger, desk and folded his arms sharply, determined that Potter would accept his course of study for the summer with good manners at least, if not good grace.

He had to admit that Potter bore the lecture well enough, not once complaining or protesting. At mention of his substandard marks the boy at least had the grace to look faintly ashamed and give a slight nod, acknowledging that he had been doing less than he was capable of. Severus hated waste, and the waste of a mind was an especially irritating thing.

"Am I understood, Potter?" Severus asked at the end of the lecture, and Potter nodded at once, adding his voice to the affirmation quietly. Severus wasn't sure he trusted the capitulation, but decided to give the boy enough rope to hang himself with, as it were. He set the first task, reading and notes in charms and transfiguration, and then went to his own desk. Potter opened his book at once, organised parchment and quill and then lapsed into relative stillness, reading and jotting notes as directed.

Severus settled into his own research with the hesitation of a man waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The week passed with surprising peace. Potter maintained a fairly quiet, studious presence. Although Severus checked at random intervals, he had yet to catch the boy doing anything other than reading laboriously and taking succinct notes. When the boy became restless, he was sent out into the courtyard for some exercise. Severus had given Potter strict instructions that he was not to leave the courtyard except by the windows that opened into the workroom, and not to exceed the height of the roof. Potter didn't have his broom, but Severus was well aware of the child's ability to come up with something unexpected, an expectation which was substantiated when Potter started to climb the tree.

As he never went higher than the roofline, and so technically did not leave the courtyard Severus chose the better part of valour and let it be.

Saturday loomed and Severus set up his laboratory. He set the boy to preparing basic ingredients for brewing, and started on one of the potions variants he'd found in Salazar's books. Potter would brew the standard potion used today, which was well within his skill level, while Severus attempted the more technically demanding variant. He wanted to test them both to determine why the variant had gone out of standard use. If he discovered that it was because of laziness on the brewers part he would be quite… irked.

Potter brewed perfectly. Severus of course kept one eye on the child at all times, but without the distraction of House rivalries and House sabotage, not that Severus would admit to seeing such a thing in his lessons, the boy was a better brewer than expected. He worked precisely enough and didn't waste much. Severus would of course see to it that some of his bad brewing habits were curbed, once this experiment was over.

With two cauldrons worth of test material, Severus dismissed Potter for the rest of the day, and Sunday as well. He tended not to work on the Sabbath if it could be avoided, and instructed his Ward that the boy might leave off from his studies for that day only, provided he engaged in another constructive task. Potter nodded warily and left the room, leaving the Potions Master to test and compare to his hearts content.

0o0o0o0

"Ah, Severus," Albus announced himself with his usual aplomb, and Severus bit down on the sigh that wanted to gust forth. His evening had been going so well, a glass of red wine, a professional journal and no fidgeting ward in the background…

"I know that as the Keeper of Wards in this castle you can unlock any door when needed, but really Albus, would it hurt to knock?" Severus glared at his employer, who sat down uninvited and completely unperturbed.

"It may do, I could skin a knuckle, or get a splinter," the old coot twinkled at him, smoothing his beard complacently. Severus bit down on the retort that he wanted to make and laid the journal in his lap, face up and open to make it clear that he had merely suspended his reading, not given it up.

"You wanted something?" he prompted, his tone only barely on the correct side of polite. Not that his guest was in any way discomforted by it.

"I was wondering how you were planning to procure Harry's school supplies," Albus twinkled at him again, as if he knew precisely how irritating he was being.

"I was planning to send Dizzy for them," Severus replied coolly, "Once I had reviewed and approved his subject choices."

"Approved? You don't feel that Harry should choose his own path?" there was a hint of warning to Albus' voice, and Severus smirked at his employer.

"I would prefer the boy to have a full load of useful subjects," he replied in his deepest tone, "Unexpected or not, the boy is now under my guidance, and his performance will reflect on me. I have a reputation to uphold."

"I'm well aware of your reputation, Severus," there was a double edged blade if he'd ever heard one, and something that the elderly mage opposite him rarely alluded to, "However I am sure you know that Harry will resent any interference with his studies. He wishes to remain with his friends after all."

"I have no intention of depriving him of their company," Severus waved a languid hand, "And he will of course see them at meals and in the evening."

"Harry's friends are vital to his well being, Severus," Albus chided, "I am sure you remember your own school days… but enough of that..."

Severus glared at the man in front of him, knowing full well that the Headmaster was alluding to his own status as an outcast in his House, mainly because of his poverty. If they'd also known he was a half-blood…

"… I have had a letter from Molly Weasley, requesting that Harry be allowed to come with her family to Diagon Alley for the annual school shopping trip. She has written at great length about the supervision she and Arthur will offer Harry, as well as the safety of the Alley. I have taken the liberty of writing back, saying that Harry will meet them in the Alley with one of our professors."

"Thank you, Albus," Severus said with heavy sarcasm, "I've been meaning to attend to the school potions stores."

"Well then, that's settled," Albus beamed, as if he hadn't backed Snape into a corner at wand point, "Here are the details of the meeting, and I do hope you enjoy your day, Severus. I believe Miss Granger will be there too."

Severus took the proffered slip of parchment numbly and waited for a good five minutes before airing his opinion of interfering employers. He wouldn't put it past the old coot to have lingered at the door.

0o0o0o0

Potter met Severus in the foyer on the morning of their enforced excursion, an excited gleam in his eyes. He was immaculately dressed in a dark blue set, the crisp white shirt a startling contrast. Already the clothes were influencing the boy's posture for the better, though Severus had come to realise that nothing could be done about the hair. The watch chain gleamed dully in the morning light, and the boy's boots were cleaner than Severus had expected.

"Put this on," he instructed, saying nothing of his approval of the boy's appearance, as it wasn't his way, "It's a port key. Should an emergency arise you will be brought back to your rooms at the castle. In that case, you will remain within them until I say otherwise, unless you are in need of medical treatment."

"Yes sir," Potter put a hand out obediently to take the small amulet from Severus, "Thank you."

Severus nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Potter examined the amulet curiously. It was made of newly forged steel; all the better to hold the transport and protection spells Severus had spent several nights weaving into the intricate design. The chain was very fine, though strong, and the amulet itself was a snake, twisted into an intricate Celtic knot, a never ending loop. The chain had no clasp but was long enough for Potter to put over his head easily, tucking it under his shirt to warm against his skin. Once he'd resettled his collar, the brat put his hands together in front of him and raised his face to look Severus in the eye.

"Sir, I know that Diagon Alley isn't secure enough to have a proper conversation," the boy was developing some cunning, prefacing his predictable request with that statement, "But when they get to Hogwarts, may I tell Hermione and Ron about your guardianship of me, and the summer?"

Severus tilted his head in approval for the way the request was worded, concise and appropriately respectful without whining or begging. The brat had put some thought into this.

"You may tell them here only in your rooms or my presence," Severus agreed, "I suppose it is inevitable they will enquire about your summer. You are not to tell anyone else, under any circumstances."

"Thank you," Potter looked relieved and Severus nodded once more before turning and heading for the castle doors. He was a little surprised that Potter would want to admit that he was under the guardianship of a disliked teacher, but supposed that Potter's sense of Gryffindor fairness would push him to acknowledge the situation to his closest friends.

"Come, Potter, or we'll be late," he instructed, "You are to remain with me at all times, is that understood? If you wander out of my reach at any time I will send you straight back to the castle."

"Yes sir," Potter replied, and broke into a jog to keep up with him. Severus slowed down after a moment, not wanting to earn a scolding from Molly Weasley about making Potter run. They walked down to Hogsmede and into the Three Broomsticks, where Snape paid for the Floo. The castle's Floo was shut down for maintenance today, which made him uneasy. Floo to Hogwarts would have been another escape route for the boy, should one become necessary. He pushed Potter into the fire with him, and kept one hand firmly on the boys arm as they spun past sundry hearths. The Leaky Cauldron spun into sight and Severus stepped out gratefully, tugging a dizzy Potter with him. He cleaned the soot off with a spell, and then frowned and leaned down to the boy's ear.

"Are you carrying your wand?" he murmured, and Potter nodded, looking startled, "Do not use it."

The brat looked faintly insulted, but said nothing, ducking his head to regain control of his temper. Severus had become familiar with this habit, and it pleased him to see that the pest was at least attempting to exercise some self control. He spotted Arthur Weasley watching from a corner of the dining room and steered Potter over in that direction. Sure enough, the rest of the Weasley brood were in attendance and Potter was swallowed up in a crowd of redheads, with Granger's shrill voice piping above them.

"Severus," Arthur held his hand out, and Severus shook it politely, "Good of you to bring the lad along."

"The Headmaster felt it was for the best," Severus made it clear that the granting of this treat for Potter had nothing to do with him. Arthur smiled, as if he'd said something amusing, and turned to watch as his wife smoothed the brat's hair and asked how he was. Weasley and Granger were hovering close, and it occurred to Severus that his instruction for Potter to stay in his reach also meant that the rest of the Trio were to spend the day with him as well.

As if suddenly realising that his guardians arms weren't long enough to span the dining room, Potter looked around and blushed, retreating to Severus' side. Weasley and Granger followed as if attached by a string, and Severus bit back a sigh of resignation.

"Sorry sir," Potter looked anxious and Severus nodded once in acknowledgement. Weasley and Granger both looked uncomfortable, which was excellent as far as he was concerned. If they could reign themselves in long enough to get this visit done without irritating him or endangering his wards life he might even consider taking a few points less in their first lesson this year.

Eventually Arthur and Molly got their brood organised and they all headed for the Alley. Molly had a lot of experience getting a large group of children organised with their school supplies, so Severus allowed her to direct their shopping, though he took Potter with him to the Apothecary while the rest of the crowd were buying school robes. His Ward was made useful fetching and carrying, which he did without complaint and more importantly without dropping anything. Severus was dismayed to note that the small group of idly curious witches and wizards that had been discreetly following them took the opportunity to stand close to the window and observe Potter's every move. His ward was aware of them, but made no effort to engage any of them in eye contact or conversation; just as well too, Severus knew that Albus would entirely disapprove of him hexing the so called 'Potter watchers', a ridiculous group of idlers who would do better to pay attention to their own lives instead of Potters'. It was appalling the way they treated Potter as if the boy was a rare bird to be tracked and examined in his daily habits. As his ward spent so much of his time in school, Diagon Alley was almost the only place the idiots could indulge in their 'hobby'.

There were Wanted posters up all over the Alley, and Sirius Black snarled and lunged madly in them, fighting the hands and restraints at the edge of the pictures. Severus noted that the Trio avoided looking at the posters, and didn't bring the escapee up. They also avoided asking Potter about his summer after the first query in Severus' earshot garnered the response 'not here' and a glance in his direction. He backed his ward up with a silent glare and Weasley glared back before Granger elbowed him.

They had almost finished their shopping when a cry went up, further down the Alley. Several voices were raised in chorus, and people either began pushing towards them or pushing away from them, a situation that threatened to separate Severus from his charge.

"Black! It's Sirius Black!"

Three people charged between Severus and the children and he snarled at them before activating the port key that Potter had draped over his head only this morning. There was a shriek and Severus turned in time to see Weasley and Granger disappear along with his ward.

"Marvellous," Severus snarled under his breath and waded over towards the rest of the Weasley brood.

0o0o0o0

It turned out that 'Sirius Black' was in fact a once reputable pureblood who had become addicted to several of the more potent potions ingredients available in a small shop just off Diagon Alley. Severus had no time for the weak minded fools that turned to narcotic agents to alleviate the sad reality of their lives, and very nearly hexed the hapless twit for causing him to send his ward where he would be unsupervised with his two best friends. Once he had assured Molly Weasley that the Golden Trio were safe, that he would personally escort her son and her sons female friend to the Burrow and that no, he didn't think Miss Granger would feel better if her latest acquisition – a ginger fluffy thing with the improbable name of Crookshanks – was at her side, he was free to leave.

Unencumbered by the cat demon, and still carrying Potters school supplies in his pockets, Severus apparated back to Hogsmede and strode along the path that would return him to the school. This would be a test of sorts for the boy, as he was once more returned to his audience, and his partners in crime. Would Potter remain locked behind the safe wards of his room, or would he be persuaded to disobey Severus and wander the castle foolishly? If the former, then Severus would have to admit that the brat had at least learned to obey him, if the latter then his wrath would be so great that the boy would turn to Filch for a rest cure.

Hogwarts herself knew that he was to be admitted to Potter's rooms without password, though he did have to flare his magic against the door to be recognised. He mounted the steps silently, and when he reached the landing he could hear the voices of the three teens his port key had transported. He was pleased that Potter had not given into temptation, and paused a moment to listen to the discussion within.

"… a lot better than normal, anyway," Granger was saying lightly, "And you said you'd done all your homework?"

"You bet," Potter sounded amused, "In the first two weeks. Then we went down to the Chamber and worked there for a few days."

"Yuk," Weasley uttered, "That Basilisk must have ronked."

"Professor Snape had a couple of cloths that we tied over our faces to neutralise the smell," Potter replied, "And he repaired the passage where Lockhart made your wand explode, Ron, so we didn't have to crawl through it."

"You know, Slytherin is rumoured to have left all sorts of things in that Chamber of his… did you do any exploring, Harry?" Granger sounded eager, and Severus smirked, knowing that he'd cleaned that place of all its secrets. There was nothing left down there for the Know-It-All to find, but he made a mental note to warn Potter off taking jaunts with his friends in term-time.

"The Professor found everything there was to find… some journals and books and stuff. He's been going through them and brewing stuff he finds in there," Potter sounded as if he was grinning, "He even makes me brew… or prepare ingredients."

"Rotten luck," Weasley sighed, "I mean, with the Quidditch pitch right here and everything, you could be practicing and getting ahead for the next season."

"I think it would be fascinating," Granger sounded very prim, and Severus smirked. She was well known for her drive to know everything, and even Filius had been taken aback by some of her questions. He'd heard a rumour that she'd put down for every elective there was, and he didn't pity Minerva the task of pinning the young witch down and making her choose properly.

"So… you're all right, then, Harry?" Weasley asked hesitantly, "I mean, he treats you ok?"

Severus stood very still, curious to hear exactly what Potter thought of his treatment this summer. Certainly he hadn't been feted and cosseted, allowed to loll about uselessly or spend all day on his broom. Severus could imagine that the strictures placed on the boy's movements and leisure time would have him harbouring some hefty resentment, and now they would come to light no matter how the boy acted in his presence.

"Yeah Ron, Professor Snape treats me ok," Potter replied ungrammatically, "He's given me a great room and clothes to wear that actually fit. He even gave me a Wizarding watch. Any task I get comes with a reasonable deadline, and like I said he lets me go out into that courtyard near his workspace. He's been a fair guardian."

So the boy had explained the guardianship he was now living under. It was interesting that his adjective of choice was 'fair' – it showed that the guiding light of the Muggles had been unfairness in their dealings with the boy.

"Yes, but you have to climb in and out of a window!" Granger protested and the boys behind the door heaved an identical sigh.

"Hermione, that's half the fun!" they told her in chorus and all three burst out laughing. Severus sneered at Gryffindors idea of fun and pushed the door open without warning. Granger was seated in the armchair and Weasley was on the couch-come-bed with Potter. All three looked up when he entered and stopped laughing.

"Sir, was it really Sirius Black?" Potter asked eagerly, "Did they catch him?"

"It was not him – they mistook another wizard for him," Severus replied, "Weasley, your family are returning home. I am to escort you and Miss Granger there."

"Yes sir," Weasley gave Potter a glum look and shifted closer to the dark haired boy for a moment. Potter looked equally glum, but mustered up a smile for his friends. Severus made a mental note to lay in some texts about physical maturity and intimate relations for the time that the two of them finally realised where their leanings were.

"I'll see you when school starts," Potter was hugging Granger, "It's only another few weeks."

"Will you be on the train?" Weasley looked hopefully at Severus and then seemed to change his mind. Good thing too, because Severus had no intention of letting his charge go down to London only to return straight to the castle.

"What would be the point? He's already here," Granger pointed out; when Potter didn't do anything other than shrug in reply. Severus emptied his pockets and returned the shopping to its correct size.

"Potter, put these away while I'm gone," he instructed his ward. Potter nodded obediently, and thumped Weasley on the shoulder casually as the teen gathered Granger's elbow in his hand and escorted her to the door.

"See you when term starts," Potter called after his friends, and turned to his task. Severus nodded once in approval and followed the teens down to the foyer.

"Need I remind you not to discuss your friend's location?" Severus droned when they reached the school doors.

"We won't," Granger looked indignant, but he had no patience for her self inflated idea of her own competency. This was Potter's life she was risking, and Severus wouldn't have it said he'd been lax in protecting the boy.

"Thank you for protecting him, sir," Weasley sounded subdued, "And for being his guardian."

Severus huffed at the boy and chivvied the teens along. As if he needed their approval for his actions!

0o0o0o0


	6. Chapter 6

**Harry**

Time seemed to fly after that for Harry. He realised that he'd missed his birthday at some point, an event which was usually the highlight of his summer. Of course, the last two summers had brought the only true celebration of his birthday that he'd known – a huge man named Hagrid had brought him a slightly squashed cake and his friends had sent cards that Dobby the house elf had stolen. This year he'd been too busy to notice the day as it slipped past, though thinking back to it he'd gotten his watch on his birthday. How ironic that Severus Snape had given him a birthday present without either of them realising it!

There was something going on with the teachers, because Snape was called off to several meetings during their study hours, which meant Harry was sent back to his room. Snape was always in a foul mood when he came to release Harry, but the mood wasn't directed at him and he kept his head down so it wouldn't be. Harry was told very firmly that there would be additional security added to the castle and that he was not under any circumstances to go outside without an adult. That meant that when Snape decided to let Harry outside he had to go too, which cut into the mans study time.

On the bright side, Harry was shown a really cool garden. It was heavily warded, and Snape threatened to hex him really bad if he tried to break in or show other students where it was during school, but the garden itself was fantastic. It was full of climbing flowers and sculpted shrubs and fruit trees. There was a maze, a bubbling fountain, a lawn and benches and deckchairs to sit on. There were one or two statues, which moved about and changed pose now and then. Snape took to bringing his work out with him while Harry explored the garden thoroughly, though he refrained from climbing the trees until he found Professor Flitwick up one. His Charms Professor challenged him to a climbing race, which the little man won. Professor McGonagall beat them both in her cat form though, and Professor Sprout declined to join in at all.

The night before the Hogwarts train was due to depart, Professor Snape instructed Harry to pack his things up and took him back up to the Gryffindor Tower. It was a bit weird being the only person there, and Harry put his trunks down at the foot of his usual bed while his guardian stood in the doorway and watched him.

"The Headmaster has arranged for you to port key to the station tomorrow, Potter. You will be joining your friends on the Express. Do not discuss your summer living arrangements on the train, no matter how well Granger thinks she's warded the door," Snape droned in that strict voice he had. Harry nodded, unable to keep the grin off his face. He loved going on the train, as it meant his return to the one place he loved to be; even though he'd spent the summer at the school, it wouldn't be the same if he didn't arrive at the start of term on the train.

"Do not steal any flying cars," Snape instructed coolly, "Are you still wearing your pendant?"

"I haven't taken it off, sir," Harry blushed, not wanting to admit how cool he thought it was. He didn't want his teacher to think he was being a creep or something. These holidays had been a lot better than he'd expected, and he thought he'd figured out enough of Snape's Rules to be able to get along better with the other man.

"Continue not to," Snape nodded, "I have reviewed your electives, Potter. They'll do for now, though you will also be taking arithmancy. I would prefer you not take divination, as it has no purpose, but the Headmaster dissuaded me from removing it arbitrarily."

"Uh… yes sir," Harry did his best not to sound resentful. He'd chosen his courses to be with Ron and Hermione after all, and he was fairly sure that Ron wasn't taking arithmancy at all. Harry suspected that Hermione had put herself down for everything, but he was sure that the teachers wouldn't allow that. Snape nodded once more at him and gathered his robes closer, preparing to leave.

"You'll wear your school uniform to the train. I will meet you at ten forty precisely in the foyer of the school. The elves will send your dinner to the common room. Goodnight Potter."

"Goodnight sir," Harry replied quietly, "Thank you for all you did this summer."

Snape harrumphed under his breath and swept off down the stairs. Harry's reluctant Guardian didn't like praise, but Harry had to at least acknowledge all that the other man had done for him this summer. To ignore it wouldn't have been polite, and no matter what Snape said, Harry had at least learned some manners.

"Do not steal any cars," he muttered rebelliously under his breath when he heard the portrait shut, and then grinned and went to short sheet a few beds. After all, what was the point of being alone in the Tower if he didn't prepare a few surprises for his friends? Fred and George especially.

0o0o0o0

The port key deposited him in a nearly empty compartment. There was a man sleeping in it, in old robes, and his case in the luggage rack was marked RJ Lupin. Harry didn't have time to wonder if he should go looking for his friends when Hermione and Ron opened the compartment door and grinned at him, dragging in their luggage.

Harry had been thanking his lucky stars ever since he'd been port keyed to his room with his friends that they had taken the news of his unexpected status as Snape's ward so calmly. He'd had a niggling fear that they would not react at all well to the news, given that Snape was not a favourite in Gryffindor, and Harry was one of his favourite targets. Ron had been his main worry, but the redhead had settled down and listened when Hermione really shouted at him, and Harry's hurried sentences had seemed to get the point across. Ron had even thanked Snape for taking care of Harry, which was a bit embarrassing, but well meant when all was said and done.

He helped Hermione stow her luggage and watched with apprehension as she let the monster she'd bought out of his carrier. Crookshanks did not appear to be a very Hermione sort of cat – Harry would have thought she'd choose something a bit… neater looking. This cat looked like it had smashed face first into a wall, and its fur was all over the place, kind of like his hair. Ron collapsed onto the bench opposite the man in the carriage and pulled Harry down with him, warning Hermione to keep Crookshanks away from Scabbers.

As they'd only had time to really exchange the briefest amounts of information about their holidays, Harry asked his friends what they'd gotten up to on their travels, and was treated to a monologue by Hermione followed by a more disjointed discourse from Ron. They both knew better than to ask him more about his holiday at the school, and as he'd promised not to tell about the fabulous garden Snape had shown him, Harry merely spoke generally about practice in potions and spending a bit of time outdoors.

Ron asked if Harry had his permission form signed yet, and when Harry confessed he didn't know what Ron meant, his friends told him about the Hogsmede trips that third years and above could go on this year. He needed his guardian to sign his permission form, and Harry wondered if Snape had forgotten to mention that, or if the man had some sort of Slytherin plan in place. Either way, he'd have to ask on a day that he didn't have potions with the Professor, as he didn't want any accident, real or imagined, to cloud his guardian's decision when he asked. He mentioned that he wasn't sure if the form had been passed on and left it at that while the three of them exchanged significant looks.

The conversation turned to the subjects they were taking, and Hermione was being a bit evasive about things. Before either of them could figure out a way to make her talk that wouldn't wake the sleeping teacher in their compartment – which they'd deduced thanks to Hermione – the train shuddered to an abrupt stop.

Of the events that followed, Harry never really had a clear and true account. He remembered a ragged black cloak and cold, and a woman screaming and being afraid, followed by a hoarse voice and a bright light, but he didn't really start tracking events again until the train was once more under way. He came to himself lying on his back on one of the seats, Ron bracing him and feeding him small bits of chocolate. He felt cold and clammy, but the chocolate seemed to be dispersing that, so he opened his mouth obediently and let Ron feed him a bit more. When he was strong enough Harry sat up and finished the chocolate, which Hermione took as a good sign. Ron sat close enough for Harry to slump on if needed and Hermione stood close to his knees, her hands twisting the hem of her blouse.

"Who was screaming, sir?" Harry asked as the new teacher returned to their compartment. The man was thin, his hair was turning prematurely grey and his face was scratched by something with long nails. His robes were kind of shabby, but they looked warm enough, and despite the amount of sleep he'd had since the journey began he looked tired.

"No one was screaming," the teacher's voice was also hoarse, and Harry swallowed his protest. He was sure he'd heard something…

"What was that?" Hermione sounded frightened and Harry helped Ron haul her to sit between them, the action instinctual. She didn't need it, but the two boys were in the habit of protecting and sheltering her when they could. Of course they'd never say that out loud – Hermione would hurt them for sure.

"That was a Dementor," the teacher replied calmly, looking at them closely, "They guard the Wizarding prison of Azkaban. They were searching the train for Sirius Black."

Harry shivered and let Hermione sling an arm around him and pull him close. He hadn't admitted that he knew Black was his godfather, something that he would tell Hermione and Ron once they were back at Hogwarts. He was fairly sure they could find a place to talk there in peace.

0o0o0o0

_AN – I don't intend to rehash the books word for word here, or even event for event. Some events will be unchanged and therefore implied; some will be 'filtered' through HP or SS eyes and emotions according to their new circumstances. Any quotes or descriptions you recognise are JKR's – just thought I'd re-emphasise that._

0o0o0o0

When they finally reached the steps of the school Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. She very deftly cut Ron off from the rest of the Trio and ushered Harry and Hermione away, telling the woeful redhead that he'd be seeing his friends again soon. Harry traded a nervous look with Hermione and followed his head of house along to her office. Snape was waiting outside it with Pomfrey, and Harry had a sinking feeling that his reaction on the train had been reported to his guardian and the school Matron.

Sure enough, Hermione was ushered into McGonagall's office, and Snape herded Harry into a nearby classroom, Madam Pomfrey tutting under her breath as she followed them in. She had him spelled up one side and down the other before he knew what had hit him, and Harry scowled at the floor when she started fussing about sensitive students and their reactions to the Dementors.

"He won't be the only one, mark my words! Have you had any chocolate, dear?" Pomfrey ignored his scowl with the ease of long practice and folded her hands at her waist, eyeing him sympathetically. Before Harry could answer Snape had produced a potion and handed it to him with a pre-emptory gesture.

Harry swallowed a sigh, knowing that his guardian was in no mood for games or protests and uncorked the sickly orange sludge, downing it in one swallow before Pomfrey could do more than start in on her protests. Snape wouldn't poison him, and none of the potions he'd been given over the summer had done anything unpleasant to him, except of course for their taste.

"There is no need to potion the boy, Professor! A bit of chocolate is all…"

"This potion is much more effective," Snape droned smugly, eyeing Harry as he coped with the rush of warmth and energy that the potion had given him. He was hungry now; his appetite restored, and didn't feel the need to fall into the nearest bed the moment he got to the Tower.

"I do feel better, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor Lupin gave us all some chocolate on the train," Harry mediated, and she sniffed, eyeing the Potions Master with disfavour.

"At least we have a Defender who knows his cures and remedies this time," she muttered under her breath, "Well Potter, best to be getting on with you. Make sure you drink some of the hot chocolate the elves will be serving at the feast as well."

"Yes ma'am," Harry nodded obediently, "Thank you for the potion sir."

Snape sniffed in a dismissive way and Harry turned for the door, glad that his back was turned so he could grin when Pomfrey tutted under her breath at Snape, a very disapproving sound. The fact that his guardian had bothered to bring him a potion at all put him well ahead of the Dursley's in the 'caring for Harry' stakes, but there was no way he'd tell the school Matron this.

Hermione was in the corridor waiting for him, her collar disarrayed as if she'd been fiddling with it. Harry reached over so as to neaten it up for her and she took his hand as they hurried down to the Feast. Ron had saved them both a space, and the Sorting was about to start with Professor Flitwick leading the firsties up the main aisle. Snape, McGonagall and Pomfrey all slid into their chairs as the first student was called up and Harry revealed in a low voice that he'd had to go and see the Matron because of the Dementor on the train.

Malfoy was giving him some very spiteful looks, and even pretended to faint when Harry tracked a new Slytherin student to the House table. Harry scowled and sighed, turning back to face the Gryffindors.

"Don't worry about Malfoy, Harry," Ron said in a low tone, having also seen the blonde's antics, "He's just being a git."

"That's going to get really old really fast," Harry grumbled, but let Ron distract him as they cheered for the new Gryffindor.

0o0o0o0

It turned out that they didn't have Potions until the middle of the week, and Harry decided to see his guardian about his permission form before they had a class together, just in case something went wrong. Hermione's timetable turned out to be slightly insane, with more classes than there were hours of the day. He and Ron had quietly agreed that they should keep an eye on their friend in an effort to figure out what she was up to – because she might have been smart but she wasn't the best liar in the castle, by any stretch of the imagination.

After the first day of classes Harry told Ron where he was going and headed down to the Dungeons. Everyone knew where Snape's office was, all the better to avoid it, and Harry made sure that his appearance was up to his guardians expectations before knocking on the door.

"Enter!" Snape barked and Harry did so at once, quietly closing the door behind him and approaching the desk buried under piles of holiday homework. Snape had his red quill out, and Harry hoped he'd been grading Slytherin essays as otherwise he was likely to be in a foul mood.

"Professor, I wanted to ask you about the trips to Hogsmede," Harry said very quietly, aware that he had not spelled the door for privacy, and didn't want to run the risk of being overheard. His guardian had made it very clear that the guardianship was not to be revealed without his express permission, and Harry had no desire to annoy the man prior to asking for a favour.

"Your permission note has not been signed, therefore you are not going," Snape said sharply, "And speak up, boy, the door is warded."

"Yes sir," Harry tried not to sound resentful as he raised his voice to normal speaking levels, "May I know why you haven't signed the form?"

If there was one thing he'd learnt this summer, it was that Snape preferred plain speaking when it came to questions. Trying to talk around the subject would just annoy the older man, and Harry was hoping he could still persuade his teacher to change his mind about missing the Hogsmede trips.

"Because to reach the village you will come in contact with the Dementors surrounding the school, something that you have proved to be incapable of withstanding on the train. In addition, Black will be better able to access you in the village, and despite the lack of reliable sightings, I am not inclined to trust your circumspection. When Black is caught and the Dementors removed I will sign your form, not before. That is my final word on the subject, am I understood?" Snape droned: his eyes boring into Harry. There was no tickling sensation, so at least his professor wasn't reading his thoughts, which Harry knew would only have made things worse.

"Yes sir," Harry sighed glumly, and was promptly dismissed. Malfoy was lurking about outside and treated Harry to his fainting fit impersonation. Snape called the blonde inside at once, which was just as well because Harry was in the mood for a fight, and Malfoy was as good a target as any. He stumped back up to the Tower and threw himself onto the rug at Hermione's feet, shaking his head when Ron asked how his luck had been.

"No go," Harry moaned, "I'm stuck here until the Dementors and Black are gone."

"It's in your best interest Harry," Hermione chided, already buried in her homework, "After all, it wouldn't do to just _hand_ you over to Black for the sake of a sweetshop and a change of location."

"I know that," Harry frowned as Crookshanks plopped itself into his lap and started washing its squashed face, "I'd just like to be able to go and do things like everyone else, is all."

"Still, its rotten luck," Ron was eyeing Crookshanks closely too, "Want a game of chess?"

"You've both got homework to do," Hermione reminded them loudly, and Harry gave his friend a rueful look, mouthing 'later' at the redhead and pushing the cat off his lap.

Ron grinned.

0o0o0o0

Despite his disappointment with the lack of permission to go to Hogsmede, Harry enjoyed his first weeks of school. Professor Lupin was a very capable Dark Arts Professor, and the Trio all agreed that he didn't seem to be up to anything at all. Hermione's impossible schedule continued to baffle the boys, and Professor Trelawney 'saw' Harry's death on several occasions. Even Arithmancy, the study that Snape had insisted Harry take, turned out to be really interesting. It was the only lesson Harry didn't have with Ron, which was weird, because he was used to having his best friends with him all the time in class, even if they weren't sitting together.

Potions class was no different to any other year, except that Harry was putting a lot more effort into it, in an unconscious attempt to please his Guardian. Ron and Hermione were also better behaved in that class, not that they had misbehaved in previous years. Snape wouldn't have stood for that. With the extra elective and Quidditch practice, Harry was forced to become a lot more organised about his homework and reading, though he was never up to Hermione's standards. Halloween came and went with the usual disaster-in-the-making, and despite the continued threat from Sirius Black, Harry had been intrigued by the discussion between Snape and Dumbledore. He wasn't sure why his guardian thought that a teacher was helping the mass murderer inside; discussion with his friends brought him to the conclusion that it was better not to ask.

Things were progressing quite nicely until the first Quidditch match of the season. This was just before Christmas, and Harry was looking forward to the match against Malfoy and Slytherin. The weather was foul, but Harry was sure that he would be able to find the Snitch anyway when Wood came in to breakfast with a glum expression on his face.

"Slytherin have pulled out of the match. They say that Malfoy's arm isn't right yet," he explained to Harry when the teams Seeker asked what was wrong, "We'll be playing Hufflepuff instead, and they use different tactics to Slytherin."

Wood continued to be one of the hardest taskmasters Harry had ever met. While he loved to win, and found the challenge of Quidditch an intensely interesting one, he wasn't as deep a fanatic as his team captain, who'd had them practising at all hours of the day and night, often in the worst weather too. Even Fred and George had complained, and they were normally so cheerful that nothing seemed to bother them.

"There's nothing wrong with his arm," Harry growled, "The prat wouldn't even have been hurt if he'd listened to Hagrid."

This was still a sore point with the green-eyed teen. Hagrid had been so excited about being a Professor, and once Harry had gotten over his trepidation, he'd thoroughly enjoyed meeting and riding Buckbeak. Now his friend was devastated and the hapless Hippogriff under threat of execution. He hadn't ever seen Hagrid so upset before, and to make things worse he wasn't able to help either. He couldn't go down to the gamekeepers hut without an adult escort, and knew there was no point in asking Snape to take him. During class time of course, Hagrid wasn't able to talk to Harry about anything other than the class. The whole thing was an even bigger blow than not being allowed to visit Hogsmede, which Hermione and Ron had done at Halloween.

The Quidditch game was played in one of the worst storms that Harry had ever seen. If Hermione hadn't charmed his glasses he'd have been blind for the whole game, and part of him wished he had because watching the ground come up at you while listening to the ghostly screams of your mother was something he could have done without.

He'd woken in the hospital wing to the news that the Dementors had mobbed the game, and that his team had lost because Diggory had caught the snitch before realising that Harry was in trouble. The loss of his broom was another blow heaped upon his head, and all in all Harry was thoroughly dejected when the team and his friends were ushered out by Madam Pomfrey.

"We'll be keeping you here for the night, Potter," the school Matron informed him briskly, "I don't like your colour. Have some more chocolate and then get some sleep."

"Yes Matron," Harry mumbled obediently and took a bite to appease her. Truthfully, he was feeling a bit ill, slightly queasy in fact, and the chocolate wasn't sitting well with him. He lay down and pulled his blankets up to his ears, curling into a ball to try and find some warmth. He wished he couldn't remember his mother's voice, pleading like that; it was an awful thing that it was the only time he could recall hearing her voice.

"Potter?" his guardian's voice was quiet, as if Snape wasn't sure he was awake. Obedience to the voice of authority was something that Harry had an abundance of, and he rolled onto his back at once, peering up at his Potion Professor's blurry face.

"Yes sir," he said dully, and Snape leaned over him, poking and prodding as was his way before handing Harry the vile orange potion. It settled his stomach this time, and made him a bit warmer, though it wasn't as effective as it had been before the term started. Harry didn't complain, though, he just handed the empty vial back to his guardian with a quiet word of thanks.

"I wonder why you are so affected…" Snape mused aloud. Harry thought the Head of Slytherin had half forgotten he was there, which may have been why he felt it safe to mention his latest realisation.

"I can hear my mum pleading for our lives," he said dully, "She sounds so afraid."

Snape looked at him, clearly appalled, and turned on his heel. Harry watched the man leave him behind, trying not to feel betrayed. After all, he'd had no expectations that his guardian really liked him or anything, and obviously Snape thought he was looking for comfort. Harry curled up again miserably, and tried to figure out what to do.

0o0o0o0

"I thought we might use a Boggart for training," Professor Lupin explained to Harry after Christmas. More and more, Harry was beginning to wish that the Dark Arts Professor had been his guardian instead of Snape. The man scowled at Harry whenever he saw him, but Professor Lupin had known his parents. He'd been concerned about Harry, and had let the teen explain what he heard when he was near a Dementor without running away. He'd also promised to show Harry how to drive a Dementor off.

Harry smothered a grin, even though he was apprehensive. Neville's Boggart had been Professor Snape, and the sight of his guardian in an old woman's clothes had been _very_ funny. Word of the sight had gotten back to the Head of Slytherin of course, and Neville was living in fear for his life. Harry was glad that he wasn't partnered with the forgetful boy for potions, as things were strained enough between Snape and him as it was.

Christmas had not been much fun. Hermione and Ron had fallen out over the delivery of a top notch racing broom, and she'd mentioned it to McGonagall, who had confiscated it at once. Harry knew that his guardian hadn't sent the Firebolt to him, as Snape had made a point of sending Harry a Christmas note to the effect that he would approve Harry's purchase of a broom provided it was not an exorbitant price. Harry wondered if the Head of Slytherin was trying to handicap him against his House, as Slytherin were still flying the Nimbus 2001 models that Malfoy had brought with him as Seeker. He'd never had a chance to ride the broom before it was confiscated and Wood was now pestering McGonagall daily on his behalf.

"Harry?" Lupin's hand on his shoulder recalled his wandering thoughts, "You must be completely focussed if you are to learn this spell. It is magic that is well advanced of your year, and very difficult."

"I can do it," Harry squared his shoulders, "I promise."

"Very well," Lupin's amber flecked eyes examined him closely for a moment and then the lesson began.

Harry didn't have much luck in those first few weeks with the Patronus charm. He seemed to spend a lot of time on his back eating chocolate while Lupin hovered over him anxiously. He wouldn't give up though, and eventually managed to form a sort of white mist from his wand that kept the Boggart/Dementor at bay. Unfortunately the practice had the side effect of almost entirely recreating for him the memory of his parent's death. Harry tried not to go into detail for his Professor, not wanting to upset his father's former acquaintance and end the lessons, but somehow the details slipped out, bit by bit.

Lupin seemed to be almost as upset as Harry about it all.

Harry also noticed that his teacher was suffering from an illness. He'd had tea with Lupin in the Dark Arts classroom on a few Hogsmede weekends, and Snape had found him there once or twice while delivering potions to Lupin. He always scowled at Harry, though he never spoke to him, and Harry wished he could take back his moment of weakness in the hospital wing. He hadn't wanted Snape to gush over him or anything, but he'd chosen to share a deeply personal thing with his guardian and the rejection that had followed still stung.

In addition to this they'd argued about Harry being in Hogsmede. Fred and George had given Harry the best present he'd ever received, in the form of a map that showed the castle and where everyone in the school was. He'd used it to sneak to the magical town and spent some time with Ron and Hermione there. Malfoy had spotted part of him, of course, but Snape hadn't been able to prove anything and Harry was certainly not about to confess. His guardian hadn't found the invisibility cloak this summer because Harry was so good at hiding it, and he didn't want to let Fred and George down by getting the map confiscated either.

However, he disliked the idea of being at odds with Snape, and therefore didn't sneak out again. After all, the man would once again be spending the summer holidays with him, and it behoved Harry to make an effort to get along with him. Otherwise his life would not be worth living. At least in Potions he was still able to keep up with the higher standards he was finding himself operating under, which had a sort of knock on effect with the rest of his classes. Ron had learned to buckle down too, as the red head had muttered to Harry, 'anything for a quiet life'.

Harry could agree with that sentiment.

0o0o0o0


	7. Chapter 7

**Snape**

In the end, Severus had no choice about allowing his ward the Firebolt. Minerva and Filius had checked it backwards and forwards, as had the defunct Harpy, Hooch. His employer had made it clear in no uncertain terms that the broom was a safe as any other in the school, and after Minerva had mentioned that Severus had been unwilling to see his team face true competition he'd been unable to raise any further objections. Manipulative old cat.

Very deep in a secret part of his soul, well hidden from prying eyes and mages, Severus had to admit that he was looking forward to seeing his ward fly on the world class broom. Potter had always been graceful in the air, even on the schools cobweb sweepers, and Severus had admired the boy's agility in the air. With a broom such as this the boy would surely be a marvel to watch, or at least he would once he got the hang of the thing. He had considered moving the Slytherin game forward, so that his team had a chance against Potter while he was still learning, but decided against it when he caught the team at practice. Malfoy was clumsy and slow compared to the Head of Slytherin's Ward, and Severus made note of several skills that the boy would need to master before going up against the grace of Potter.

The day of the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw was clear and cold and Severus wore his best cloak to the stands, seating himself prominently amongst the staff. The Ravenclaw team were announced, and he nodded to Filius when the Charms Master offered a sporting comment on the match. Minerva looked a little tense as Gryffindor were called out, but relaxed like a cat in a sunny spot when the crimson and gold players bloomed out onto the pitch in perfect formation, Potter a blur as he lapped the stadium once, pulling up into his pre-game position with insolent ease. Severus didn't bother to restrain his smirk when Filius groaned.

As the match progressed, his smirk grew wider. He'd made the right choice in giving his team as much practice time as possible before facing Potter in the Cup final. The boy moved as if he was floating without a broom, bludgers and other players a mere speck on his horizon as he twirled effortlessly about the stadium looking for the snitch. Chang was doing her best to mark him, but Severus had no doubt that Potter would prevail, even if she did manage to spot the snitch first.

Sure enough, the Ravenclaw Seeker did manage to spot the snitch first, for all the good it did her; and the Potions Master was well aware that her advantage had come about because Potter was assisting his Chasers by disrupting the Ravenclaw Beaters. Severus' ward was after her in a flash, and they were neck and neck when several of the students started shouting.

"Dementors, Dementors!"

Severus recognised Slytherin voices among the cries, and grit his teeth in frustration. Potter glanced down at the two ragged cloaks at the edge of the stadium and pulled his wand. The boys face was pale, but he did not break off his pursuit of the snitch, a foolhardy move that Severus made note to speak to him about. The boy pointed his wand at the cloaked figures, even as the teachers rose to try and deal with the problem, shouting a spell that had taken Severus two years to learn.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

The boy's wand bucked and a _huge_ form erupted from it, charging towards its enemy with deadly purpose while Potter once more sped up to focus on the snitch. Severus watched with fascination as the _corporeal_ patronus barged headfirst into the two cloaked figures, knocking them over with terrified squawks.

He wasn't sure what galled him the most. The werewolf successfully teaching Potter a spell that Severus had insisted was far too advanced for his ward, or the fact that he recognised the squawks. Slytherin House was going to rue the day it attempted such pointless sabotage of the House Cup. Behind closed doors, of course.

He reached the fake Dementors as the golden stag standing over them faded away, its protection unneeded. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought the thing nodded at him in acknowledgement as it did; an issue to address later as his House Quidditch Seeker and Captain struggled to free themselves of their ragged costumes, leaving the confused Crabbe and Goyle – he'd recognise their unintelligent grunts anywhere – still tangled in the folds of cloth.

Malfoy and Flint looked terrified, as well they should be, for so stupidly provoking a teen that could produce such ridiculously powerful magic so young, not to mention the idiocy of invoking _his_ wrath by Sullying the Name of Slytherin. In the background he heard Potter chattering to the werewolf, and the sentimental congratulations the thing offered was enough to turn his stomach.

Severus suppressed an annoyed sigh and turned to deal with his erring students.

0o0o0o0

Life continued apace. Slytherin's disgraced students spent a large amount of time scrubbing their housemate's loos and bathrooms behind closed doors, which in the tradition of the House were left especially dirty. Slytherin was swift in dealing with recalcitrant students, allowing it to present a united front in public. Potter continued his odd truce with his Guardian, working especially hard in all of his subjects according to the reports that Severus extracted from his colleagues. He was fully aware that they found it amusing, to see him so 'concerned' for the Potter brat, a child he had spent quite some time decrying behind closed doors. Had they bothered to ask, he would have continued to decry the boy and his abilities, just because the brat was his Ward didn't mean he was going soft on the little idiot.

He was particularly irked when said little idiot was caught by himself out of bounds one evening, bearing a parchment designed to insult people. The werewolf had come along and confiscated the artefact, promising to investigate it for Dark Magic. He'd had to forego a good long lecture and a series of detentions, and he had the feeling that the brat hadn't told his favourite teacher that Severus was his Guardian; that was knowledge that he could hold over the brat at a later date.

Severus had come to the conclusion that Potter was quite happy being the pet of the werewolf, and had attempted on one of the lessons he'd covered for the Defence Against Dark Arts Professor to point the more alert students to the truth. It was possible that only Granger had made the connections he was trying to draw, and he was unsure when or even if she would share her conclusions with the rest of the Trio. As much as he would have liked to ban Potter from the werewolf's company he had no real reason to do so – despite the prevailing prejudices Severus was well aware that for twenty-five out of twenty-eight days a werewolf was no more dangerous to the public than the average witch or wizard.

Of course, Potter hadn't caused nearly enough trouble this year, as was proved in the last week of the summer term. It was early evening on the first day of the full moon that Dizzy popped into his study, beside itself with fear and worry.

"Master Severus, Little Master Harry is sending me to you! Little Master Harry is heading to the Shrieking Shack! The Grim has his Wheezy and Little Master Harry is rescuing him! Little Master Harry says that they are going down the secret passage at the Whomping Willow!"

Severus leapt to his feet, snatching his cloak and racing for the door, not even bothering to acknowledge the elf. The Grim! It could only be a trap, and with Black no closer to being caught, whatever that dog was it was probably connected to the escaped convict. Blast Potter and his Gryffindor foolishness! When he got his hands on the boy there would be hell to pay! Potter would think twice about leaping into danger, even if a friend was being dismembered in front of him!

He hared up the stairs and through the foyer, ignoring the people there with grim determination. The front steps were taken three at a time and he didn't even pause as he sprinted the length of the castle, aiming for the corner around which the Whomping Willow was concealed. He got there in time to see the werewolf in the distance, stunning the tree at a particular knot and sliding down the roots, disappearing into what was obviously the secret passage that Dizzy had named.

Cursing under his breath, Severus pulled his wand and redoubled his pace. He had always suspected that the werewolf was not entirely aligned with the side of the Light: after all he had been Potter Seniors friend, and best friend with Black as well. If anyone was likely to betray Potter for the sake of Black it was Lupin. In fact, Severus had a suddenly nasty suspicion that the entire year had been an elaborate ploy on Lupin's part to gain Potter's trust. At the time, he had spoken against the beast's employment, but had not been able to shout down the opposition. Now he had the grim satisfaction of being proven correct, possibly at the cost of his Wards life.

The ridiculous tree tried to decapitate him, and it was all he could do to restrict himself to a stunning spell, instead of severing the thing at its base and carving his initials in the stump. He slid down into the tunnel under the tree, memories dogging him uneasily. The last time he'd made this journey there had been an uncontrolled werewolf on the other end, one that tried to eat him, and would have succeeded if Potter the Senior hadn't stopped it.

He hesitated at the bottom of the short, crude stairs that led to the exit before steeling his nerve and proceeding cautiously. He ghosted silently but thoroughly through the ground floor rooms, shuddering at each new evidence that the Shack had housed a werewolf in its younger years, said werewolf being upstairs now with Severus' own Ward. The children were not down there and he wafted carefully up the stairs, all of his old mastery of the spying techniques he'd applied during the last attempted rise of the Dark Lord surging to the fore once more.

At the top of the stairs he could hear voices and allowed them to draw him towards the door almost exactly opposite. He stopped before his shadow could cross the doorway and listened carefully to the fantastic events unfolding inside. Potter was not, it seemed, in danger beyond the usual, as Lupin was not, it seemed, assisting the convict. Said convict was spinning a fantastic tale about swapping the role of Secret Keeper with Peter Pettigrew, the little sycophant that had followed the other three around and been amiably tolerated and sheltered as a fellow Gryffindor. In return the little pest had apparently betrayed the very people he'd taken an oath to protect straight to the Dark Lord.

Things came to a head when the two adults, and he used the term loosely, turned their wands on the pet ret that Weasley favoured. Moments later the cringing tones of Pettigrew sounded in the room, something that Severus had never thought to hear again. His heart pounded at the idea that the Dark Lord had a spy of his own in the Order, something that he should have known and informed Albus of immediately. This did not bode well for Severus' standing amongst the Death Eaters should they ever be recalled to their Master's side. Albus did not believe the Dark Lord was forever vanquished, not yet, and Severus had to agree that there was a lacking sense of finality to the whole affair.

Shouting made him grip his wand tensely, and moments later a small form burst from the door, scurrying for the stairs frantically. Severus took great pleasure in stunning it, then petrifying it, sealing the spells with a ward lock of his own device and finally looking up in time to meet Lupin's startled gaze. The wretched beast was looking particularly unwell, no doubt as a result of the upcoming transformation, for which Severus had brewed and delivered the required dose of Wolfsbane only this afternoon.

"Did you take your potion, Lupin?" Severus snapped, and the werewolf jumped, becoming even sicklier in the half light.

"No… I dropped it!" he gasped, panic clearly lining his face.

"Remus, did you get him… Snape!" the convict looked terrible, but Severus had no time for him, his attention fixed solely on the monster in human form in front of him. He leaned down and pocketed Pettigrew absently while Lupin began babbling a warning to the convict, looking back into the room where the teens were in horror.

"Potter! Get hold of Weasley and Granger! Now!" Severus roared, hoping that Potter had continued to wear the portkey he had given his Ward only last Summer. He had been very pleased that the boy hadn't taken it off the moment he returned to the castle, which at least showed that he appreciated the artistry and talent that had gone into his making of the amulet.

"Got them!" Potter yelled back and Severus cut his wand through the air in a savage twist. The men in the doorway flinched, much to his satisfaction, but in the room behind them there was the distinctive sound of air displacement as the portkey activated and took the children out of harms way. He didn't wait around to try and capture Black. With Pettigrew in his pocket, Severus flew down the stairs at a pace that was well above what would be considered strictly safe. Moonrise was only minutes away and he knew that the beast couldn't get out of the Shack or into the tunnel. All he had to do was get into the tunnel and he would be safe. If Lupin infected, or killed, Black that was no concern of his. The convict's name could just as easily be cleared posthumously, and the traitor to the Order needed to be placed in Albus' hands.

Screams and howls tore their way out of a throat that wasn't entirely human, and Severus sped up, sliding the last few yards and dropping into the tunnel as the unearthly noise continued. The sounds chased him as he ran at full pace towards the castle, wanting to be sure that Potter had arrived uninjured, and also wanting to be sure that the boy didn't start dashing around the castle, shouting the information he'd just learned where anyone could hear him. Severus was well aware that some of the students in the school reported to their parents on a regular basis – the literate ones anyway – and not all of the parents were what you would call Light.

Mostly he just wanted to get his hands on his wayward Ward and ensure that the brat was unharmed.

That way the punishments he was plotting wouldn't need to be deferred.

0o0o0o0

Potter was on the stairs with Granger and Weasley. He and the chit were holding the faintly green redhead between them, and from the hasty bandage charm it was apparent that Weasley had injured his leg. Severus didn't say anything, merely glared and carefully levitated Weasley up the stairs, which allowed them all to move much faster and get to the Hospital Wing much sooner. He summoned the Headmaster with a Patronus spell, then constructed a more sturdy prison for Pettigrew, dumping the rat in unceremoniously and sealing it with a Ward that would last for at least three days unless he personally countered it. That done, Severus watched as Potter huddled over against one of the windows, frantic over the fate of his friend and more than a little concerned about the sort of punishment he was facing for rushing foolishly into danger, sending a House Elf with a message instead of appearing in person and generally acting the part of a Gryffindor.

That was as it should be and Severus would have left him to stew on the matter for a bit longer if the boy hadn't yelped like a puppy that had been kicked and bolted for the door. He unfortunately was nimble enough to avoid the incarceration spells that Severus sent his way, and Granger jumped foolishly between Potter and the Potion Masters' wand, obviously believing that he wouldn't stoop so low as to hex a pre-pubescent chit of a girl.

Had the Headmaster not appeared at that point she'd have found out precisely how wrong she was. Forced to restrain his impulses Severus snarled and took to his heels, following in the foolish boys wake. It was not hard to track the child – the portraits were bound to assist a teacher in pursuit of a student, and the guardian bond was a subtle force in its own right, tugging him towards his errant charge. Though he was closing the gap, Potter was so fleet of foot that he still only caught sight of the hems of the boys robe as he flew through the front door, hopefully tripping on his own feet and fetching up at the bottom of the front steps.

Severus cursed loudly and at length when he realised that Potter had negotiated the steps and was almost to the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. Above the Forrest, swarms of black ragged cloaks were circling ominously down to a single point. The Dementors had found something to prey on, and he had a suspicion as to what, or rather who, it was. That Potter harboured the same suspicion was evident as the brat plunged into the forest, calling his godfathers name.

"Potter!" the roar was all he could spare breath for, and the brat glanced back for a bare second before calling the convicts name again and plunging into the shadows. Severus hesitated for a second before following, knowing full well that there was an adult werewolf running amok in the area, one that had quite possibly gotten out of the Shrieking Shack the same way the convict had. He couldn't allow his ward to die though, nor could he permit the boy to be infected, so he grit his teeth and plunged on through the undergrowth, wishing the Guardian Bond was telepathic so the brat knew _precisely_ what Severus thought of this foolishness.

A few hundred yards in, the Lake was fed by a series of ponds and tributaries, and it was there that the Dementors were amassing. They were swooping in eager paths over the prone human form of the convict, and several appeared to be fighting to be the one to administer the Kiss that they had been promised. Potter was huddled at the edge of the clearing, clutching his head and his wand, panting and shaking and looking as if he would faint at any moment. The insidious effect of the Dementors was tugging even at Severus' formidable defences, something that made him more than a little unwilling to venture any closer than he already was.

"Potter!" Severus hissed, one hand latching with an iron grip onto his ward's shoulder. The brat leaned into him, seeking warmth and protection; it was all he could do to allow the touch.

"We c-can't j-just l-let h-him d-d-d-ie!" Potter moaned, "P-please, sir!"

"For Salazar's sake," Severus registered his protest, "Stay here then!"

He had no intention of emerging into the open, moving forward just enough to be in front of Potter without having to let him go. He had _no_ intention of letting the brat out of his grip until they were once more within the safety of the castle proper. Potter would not run away from him again.

"Accio Black," Severus rasped, faltering as the unnatural cold and dread wrapped itself around him. The convicts arm twitched towards them, but the rest of him didn't move at all. Potter made a soft keening noise and raised his wand as well. His body was trembling violently under Severus' grip but his hand was steady and his aim true.

"Together," the boy gasped, and Severus nodded, taking a deliberate breath to cue the child into his timing.

"Accio Black," their voices sounded as one and the convict darted sideways for about a yard before snagging on something and stopping again. Severus cursed as their actions called the attention of the Dementors to their location and the cold and misery that they wore as a part of their cloaks wrapped around him and the boy.

"Expecto Patronum!" Severus snapped, and a shielding mist erupted from his wand, holding some of the effects at bay.

"Expecto Patronum!" Albus' voice called in the distance, and the corporeal Phoenix flew around and above Severus and the brat, driving the Dementors back in the direction of their intended victim. One swooped down hungrily, hissing in vexation, its hand reaching for Black's head. Potter gasped and Severus tried to decide if he could cover the brat's eyes and still maintain his spell when the teen beside him stiffened and shot his wand out.

It was like plunging one hand into the heart of the strongest wards possible. The hand Severus had clenched on Potter's shoulder went numb from the sheer amount of power bleeding off from the boy.

"_Expecto Patronum."_

It wasn't shouted or whispered or moaned, merely said as if part of the most casual spell in the lexicon. The world seemed to explode. Potter's Stag rushed forward, beating back the Dementor and then standing over Black, tossing its antlers at the enemy that came too close. Powerful waves of the purest light poured from Potter, lighting the world around them in stark black and white, driving the coven of Dementors away, squealing and hissing in pain and anger.

Only when the last of the foul creatures had gone did Potter relax, recalling the Stag to him. The light dimmed and faded as the beast trotted over obediently, dipping its head down towards its caster and fading away. Potter sighed once and then sagged, forcing Severus to drop his wand to catch the boy, dragging him into his lap and cradling him against his chest. Hurried footsteps preceded Albus' arrival and the elderly Headmaster knelt beside them, his eyes showing his shock.

"Great galloping hippogriffs," the old coot muttered, running a thin hand over dark locks. It was all Severus could do not to slap the hand away from his charge and his best glare wasn't enough to prevent a similar indignity from occurring to himself.

"Did you find Pettigrew?" Severus asked instead, not sure he had the strength to discuss the latest Potter related disaster. The boy had of course overstrained himself again, which meant that he would once more need isolation and rest. At least the castle hadn't removed the boy's rooms completely, he could rest there, away from the media circus that was bound to follow this evenings events.

"I found a rat that Miss Granger insisted was Pettigrew," Albus replied cautiously, "If what she reported is true…"

"It probably is," Severus didn't like admitting it, and twisted his arm to pick up his wand. Potter's was still in his hand and he took hold of that too before standing up; the boy was a small weight in his arms and Severus made a note to revise the potions the brat was to take this summer, "You take care of the convict, I want to put Potter to bed."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Harry**

For a moment, Harry couldn't quite work out where he was or how he'd come to get there. He was warm and comfortable, a distinct change from his last memory of cold and fear and strife, someone was holding him and the bit of magic that he had identified as tying him to Snape as Ward and Guardian was telling him that Snape was very close. That was a nice feeling; one that meant safety and protection. It was odd to associate that with Snape, but he didn't let it bother him too much.

Something was vibrating under his ear in steady rhythm, but Harry found it soothing and rubbed his cheek on the unexpectedly soft material he was resting against. His pillow was hard, but not uncomfortable. Altogether he was very much enjoying where ever he was and hoped he wouldn't be needed to move too soon.

"I think he's waking up," that sounded like Professor Lupin. Harry had a vague notion that he was worried about his Professor… something about a rat and a Grim and a werewolf and Hermione's frightened voice and Ron's pained cries and then cold and despair and his parents dying over and over _and_ _over_ _and over_…

Arms tightened protectively around him as he whimpered in panic, unable to do more than struggle feebly against the memories. He latched his hand into the material under his cheek and buried his face in it as well, needing the warmth and the comfort to drive the dead back to where they belonged. Someone rubbed his back, and the bit of magic that was his Guardian warmed him from the inside, sending peace and protection.

"Harry?" that sounded like the Headmaster, but Harry didn't want to talk to him… he was angry with the Headmaster, although he couldn't remember why. The arms holding him shifted, dragging sweeps of material with them, and he burrowed under gratefully, curling up as small as he could. Despite Professor Snape's potion regimen he was still under height and slightly underweight, which was working in his advantage now.

"You are distressing him," the cold strict tones, with their _piss off_ edge were not directed at him and he mentally stuck a tongue out, childishly thinking 'so there' at all the people who were worrying him.

"Severus, he needs to wake up," the Headmaster chided, "He hasn't eaten in…"

"He takes the potions I give him, they will sustain him," the calm voice disagreed sourly, "You heard Poppy. He is to rest. We almost lost him, Albus."

"Lost?" he whispered the word to himself, wondering if his Guardian meant when he'd run into the forest… no don't think about that, it brought back the cold and despair…

"Yes Harry," Professor Lupin must have heard him, "You've been very ill."

"Warm," Harry corrected without opening his eyes, feeling that it was important to at least let his Guardian know that he wasn't sick. Who knows what sort of potions he'd end up taking this summer if his Guardian decided he was sickly, "Not ill."

"Severus does radiate a lot of heat," the Headmaster agreed, proving that Harry was speaking more loudly than he had thought. Wait… Severus? Harry was curled up in his Guardian's arms?

He couldn't bring himself to push away, even knowing that Snape hated him to some degree and would certainly resent having to comfort him in public. Harry had felt that they'd at least come to some sort of working relationship over the year. He certainly worked a lot harder to meet the expectations of his teachers, knowing that Snape would not be pleased with shoddy work. It had been an odd thing, knowing that there was someone checking up on him, an adult who was responsible for him, and who his actions reflected upon. Most of his lie Harry's actions had only reflected upon him, so having to please someone else with his behaviour and grades had been something of a novelty. The fact that it was Snape, with all the strictness and standards that implied, had only made doing well even more essential. Perhaps his Guardian wouldn't begrudge him this warmth, just for a moment more, in payment for his hard work over the year…

… then again perhaps not. Either way it wouldn't help his case if he made the man wait for him while he 'lolled around uselessly' – something that was against Snape's Rules. Harry sighed and peeled heavy eyelids apart, staring blurrily at the dark cavern of Snape's sleeves and chest. The man certainly had a lot of buttons on his clothes, Harry mused, then took a deep breath and tipped his head up, looking for the scowling face above.

Snape wasn't scowling. He was peering at Harry, a concerned glint in his eyes that most people would have missed. Harry almost did. He put his hand over Snape's heart, not wanting to loose the soothing beat that his cheek had been pressed against only moments before. Something told him that noise had held the fear and panic at bay.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, his words slurring a little. Snape nodded solemnly in response and Harry relaxed a bit more, "M sorry. I shouldn't have run after Ron."

It was important that he show he was aware of his transgressions, which wouldn't mitigate his punishment, but might please his Guardian anyway. Snape quirked an eyebrow at him but didn't launch into a lecture, which was a mercy of sorts. Harry didn't think he could deal with a scolding right now.

"Is everyone alright?" Harry persisted with his questions, needing to know in a vaguely urgent sort of way that felt very confusing. He was _tired_ but now that he'd opened his eyes he knew he wouldn't get any rest until his questions were answered.

"Miss Granger was completely unharmed, and Mr Weasley's leg has healed quite satisfactorily. Mr Black is currently undergoing medical examination at St Mungo's and is not allowed visitors: he has been cleared of all charges in the wake of Mr Pettigrew's trial before the Wizengamot. Mr Pettigrew is incarcerated in Azkaban, in a cell fortified against an Animagus. Mr Lupin is to your left," his Guardian said crisply, that tickling feeling in Harry's mind telling him that the older man was reading his worries and answering them as they popped up, "You have over-extended your magic again, and will be spending most of Summer recuperating."

"I don't remember," Harry mourned, closing his eyes. His Guardian didn't need to see his confusion just now, "I'm _sorry_."

"Yes," Snape agreed above the darkness, "I know. Your memory will return eventually. Go back to sleep. I will not leave you."

Harry wondered why that last bit had been said, before a small memory popped up of screaming and fear and struggling against adult hands, followed by something that was not so much a tickle as a stab, someone in his mind, understanding him as no one ever had before, then the hands had turned to arms and the vibration of a heartbeat and the fear had slowly trickled away.

The memory didn't make sense to Harry, so he let it go; preferring instead to rest against his Guardian, something telling him that it was alright to do so.

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	9. Chapter 9

**Epilogue**

Ron looked up and grinned as Harry yelled in excitement at the players swooping past. His friend had been really poorly all summer, but Ron was relieved that Snape had let his Ward come to the Quidditch match with the Weasley's. Harry wasn't allowed to camp out with them of course, and Snape had insisted on attending to keep an eye on his Ward, but all in all things couldn't be much better.

Ron had never been so frightened in his life when he'd woken in the hospital wing and found Hermione clutching his hand and sobbing in heart break. Harry hadn't been there, and Ron had panicked. It had taken Hermione shouting in his ear to calm him down and listen to her tear laden tale. Harry had run into the forest to save Sirius Black from the swarming Dementors. Snape had gone with him, and they'd both been followed by the Headmaster. Apparently the Headmaster had arrived as the Dementors had started attacking Harry and Snape, and hadn't been able to hold them off fully. Harry had apparently cast a Patronus so strong it had driven every single Dementor back to Azkaban, howling all the way.

Harry had collapsed and been brought back to the hospital wing, along with Black. Snape had paced beside Harry's bed for a bit, then their friend had woken up. According to Hermione, Harry had been insane with fear, screaming and striking out with his magic and his fists at anyone who came too close. Then he'd started convulsing, having some sort of fit right there on the bed while Madam Pomfrey had tried to stabilise him. In the end, Snape had managed to pin Harry to the bed and had proceeded to stare at their best friend 'really hard, Ron, like he was trying to read his mind or something'. Harry had stopped freaking out, but the moment Snape had let go the convulsions had started again.

Harry had been taken into a private ward at once, leaving Hermione to sit with Ron and imagine the worst. They didn't know if their friend had survived until Madam Pomfrey came to check on his leg. She'd potioned Hermione and put her to bed next to Ron when their best friend started weeping again.

They hadn't seen Harry before leaving school, which Ron had resented greatly. By the time they'd got to Platform 9 and ¾ the newspapers had been full of Sirius Black's arrest and the appearance of Peter Pettigrew. Ron's former pet had been trialled and sentenced in the space of a week, and Black was in St Mungo's with the mind healers, who were still trying to put him back together after over a decade of torment.

The redhead pushed those thoughts aside, yelling with Harry as Krum swept past the box, feinting through the other players in a complex manoeuvre. In the corner of his eye he could see Snape, a thin black streak that was watching them carefully as they enjoyed the match.

Snape would have to be treated with more respect next year. He was still an evil bat, but he'd taken good care of Harry, even if his friend was a bit on the pale and thin side. It had been weeks before Harry had been strong enough to write to Ron, and his letters had been brief, shaky affairs. Ron's mum had wanted the dark haired teen where she could feed him up and keep an eye on him, but Snape wasn't having any of that. He had heard Snape remind Harry that good behaviour today would get him a visit with his friends later in the holiday, so he and Hermione were on their best behaviour, avoiding asking awkward questions and standing with Snape instead of wandering off to look at all the exciting stuff on offer.

Harry and Snape apparently got along now… though how or why that had happened Ron would probably never figure out. Snape would say something a bit snarky, and Harry would grin instead of taking offence… it was an odd dynamic but it worked. Harry had confessed he'd spent most of his time not in bed reading school books out of bed brewing, but he didn't seem to mind much. His friend had also said that the castle had installed a door directly between Snape's rooms and Harry's, which was apparently a good thing.

"Hey Harry, seen the Snitch yet?" Fred leaned between Ron and his mate to ask, interrupting his train of thought. Ron bristled, prepared to defend his friend – after all, this was international Quidditch, not the school rated stuff that they played.

"Actually twice," Harry grinned, "It's really hard not to point it out, sometimes."

"Sure Potter," Fred snorted, and Harry turned to glare at the twin, something in his eyes wiping the smirk off Fred's face. There was something faintly Snape-like in that glare, which made it all the more intimidating.

"It's in the middle of the pitch…" Harry broke off as Krum suddenly turned and headed for the middle of the pitch, arm out in the classic Seekers pose. Fred and Ron were quiet as Harry narrated softly for them the twists and turns of the elusive gold ball, something that was moving so fast they couldn't see it at all. They _could_ see Krum matching Harry's narration, and when the Seeker finally grabbed it the stadium exploded into frantic noise and cheers.

"Bloody hell," Fred muttered, cowed. He withdrew and Ron slung an arm around his friend, grinning as if Harry himself had been out on the pitch.

"Bloody brilliant," the redhead yelled and Harry laughed, cheering with him as the teams headed for the ground.

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**End**

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